#fic: indecent offerings

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

if requests are open… i beg of you, the ethan writer…. to please write something about ethan being a certified munch… like you can’t tell me he doesn’t eat pussy for a SPORT. sure he’d love you to sit on his face but… i can just imagine him folding your knees up into your chest so he can have full access to you

A/N : Hii ! <3 I loooove your request so much, it just SCREAMS Ethan Landry to me, this man would happily die between your legs if it means he can eat your pussy for hours and make you cum multiple times !! 🤤🖤 Please tell me if I did justice to your request and you know where to find me if you want other Ethan’s fics 😘✨

Ethan Landry lives for eating you out as he loves giving the sweetest pleasure to your pussy…or is it his ?

❦ Even though Ethan Landry is inexperienced when he first starts eating you out, your boyfriend would improve so quickly because of two simple reasons. First, because Ethan wants to do things right and would absolutely listen to your advice when he asks you what feels good or not, taking mental notes of which spot makes you moan the loudest and which pace makes you cum the fastest. Secondly, because Ethan wants - need - to eat you out so frequently that he, anyway, grew to be very good at it.

❦ Ethan would definitely leave hickeys on your inner thighs before he even touches you pussy, his head nicely snuggled between your thighs as he nips, bites, licks and kisses your skin that will show his marks, only for him to know who you really belong to.

❦ He would then press his fingers on your pussy, his thumb rubbing on your clit through the pretty lace material of your panties that he offered you a few days ago, teasing you as Ethan feels the wetness dampen the fabric underneath his fingertips and proudly smiles when he realizes that he can work you up this nicely by barely touching you.

❦ Ethan would also always, and I say always, kiss your pussy through your panties before starting to eat you out, almost like he’s greeting your little cunny like the sweet boyfriend he is.

❦ This man could die between your thighs and he would be the happiest man ever. He would literally overstimulate your pussy for hours because Ethan cannot even realize how long he’s been giving you pleasure and he doesn’t care, he just wants you to feel good and…Ethan also gets excited just by eating you out.

❦ In fact, Ethan would get so painfully hard from pleasing you only with his mouth that he would start humping the bed to get some relief, cumming in his pants a few times seeing how much he’s desperate for you, and only you, making his head spin with pleasure.

❦ I also believe that Ethan’s hair is quite sensitive and with how much you would be pulling on his curly strands when he gives you orgasm one after the other, Ethan would whine, moan and grunt so much against your pussy, creating the most delicious vibrations against your sensitive clit.

❦ If you try to remove his head from your pussy (and if it’s still consensual of course), you won’t have any chance against his strength, his head won’t budge away from you. Nothing will stop Ethan if he isn’t finished with you yet and he will pin you down with his free hand by pressing against your tummy if he has to.

❦ Ethan will also bite your thighs if you contain your sounds of pleasure, he doesn’t want that and absolutely won’t let you do it. Ethan relishes in the way you so beautifully moan his name, whine in a pitched tone when you’re close to your climax and when you softly tell Ethan that you love him between soft whimpers after he overstimulated you.

❦ If he eats you out from behind or when you sit on his face, Ethan makes sure to grab handfuls of your ass while your thighs tremble and shake under his sweet indecent ministrations.

❦ Hell, this man would even eat you out at school between classes when Ethan really can’t wait to have you alone for himself. Ethan would take you to the restroom and press you against the wall as he kneels before going down on you. His head would be snuggled between your thighs as you look down to find his filthy gaze not leaving yours until he can hear you moan his name while you cream on his tongue. It simply feels like heaven to Ethan.

❦ Your boyfriend will even eat you out just to get rid of his stress, as Ethan paws at your skirt and then sliding his hand underneath it to caress the lace of your panties, after you both came back home from a long tiring day. « Please baby… I’m stressed, just need to eat you out real quick… I’ll be good… Can I ? », Ethan pleads you as he nuzzles your pulsating neck with his cold nose, pressing encouraging kisses there.

❦ Ethan feels immensely proud about giving you such pleasure only with his mouth and to hear those sweet sounds of yours mixed with little cries of his name, it all sounds like the most perfect music to his ears. After a session where your boyfriend knows that he did a particularly good job at making you feel good just by seeing the blush on your face, Ethan would silently look at you with a smug smile like the nerd he is.

❦ Ethan would make eye contact with you when he knows you’re close to reaching your climax. His eyes being half lidded white how pussy drunk he is.

❦ If you squirt while he eats you out, Ethan will feel so proud that he won’t ever shut up about it as he gently encourages you to do it again for him.

❦ After giving you so many orgasms with his mouth, a long session that leaves your pussy sensitive and puffy because of his lips, Ethan would so gently and softly kitten licks your pretty cunt and press little kisses on your clit, like the sweet boyfriend he is.

❦ While going down on you and after taking care of you, Ethan would praise you so much as he leaves kisses all over your face and pampers you with lovely words that he reserves only for you, his perfect girlfriend, « You did so well for me, angel. »

❦ Well, Ethan worships your pussy if that wasn’t clear enough.

❦ But what Ethan favors to do the most is folding your knees up into your chest so he can have full access to you and literally do whatever he wants to your pussy. Ethan would sometimes add two of his fingers when he wants to give you even more pleasure while sucking on your clit, twirling his tongue around it and lapping at your folds like the sweet puppy he is as he tries his best to tongue fuck you.

❦ When Ethan’s finished with you, as you’re so overstimulated that your legs go limp when he releases them, barely able to feel your legs anymore seeing how much strength your boyfriend applied on them. Some marks already start forming as Ethan apologetically presses kisses on your bruised skin, his face now covered in your juices as his mouth glistens. Ethan would give you the sloppiest kiss ever to make you taste yourself on his tongue, as he whines in your mouth at the feeling of having done a good job at making you feel good. During this kind of kiss, Ethan feels restless as he uncontrollably paws at your chest and holds your face to deepen the kiss, as he rubs his still hard-on against your pussy. His pants dampened with his cum after cumming in his pants so many times, feels sticky on your skin while he humps himself on your poor overstimulated and swollen clit. Yet, Ethan will never forget aftercare as he cleans you up like his dear little princess before cuddling you. Ethan is the loveliest puppy as he holds you tight in his arms, moving you closer to his body before he gets sleepy and rests his head on your shoulder, snoring lightly in your ear while he nuzzles against your face.

💗 Ethan Landry Masterlist 💗

[maiamore]

LUCKY YOU

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 2.7k

Summary: Joel tries to read his book instead of giving his wife attention on his honeymoon.

Or, Joel fucks his wife at the beach.

Tags: husband!joel, public indecency, sex on the beach, established relationship, outdoor sex, p in v sex, accidental creampie,honeymoon vibes,able bodied reader, implied age gap, slight coercing(?) reader just wants her husband to fuck her on her honeymoon smfh, use of pet names, pussy pronouns, one use of the word daddy A/N: i don't even have to explain what conjured this, beach pedro y'all, i enjoyed writing this SO MUCH

Edit: this song, Image - Magdalena Bay suits this fic perfectly in my head arghh MASTERLIST

It wasn’t easy getting a man like Joel Miller to relax. 

Every goddamn chance he got, he’d find a way to keep busy–mind or body. Whether it was fixing the creaky cabinet door or patching up the leaky air-conditioning unit that the landlord swore they'd call someone for. Joel thrived on activity, claiming it "kept the bad thoughts away." Whatever those bad thoughts were, you weren’t sure, but you suspected they’d always be lurking at the edges.

Even now, with the tropical sun bathing both of you in its’ lazy warmth and the lull of crystal blue waves breaking the shore, Joel had insisted on unwinding by reading, of all things. 

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead.

Given, it was a good read, you’d insisted for him to give it a try. And you’d enjoyed it—a book that had you question societal norms, ethical implications of how humanity treated animals and the environment through the eyes of Janina Duszejko.

Could you really be upset at your husband keeping his mind occupied with a good book? 

Oh, you could. And you would. Considering this was your honeymoon.

Three blissful, chaotic years of marriage had finally led you both here. A getaway, tucked in a small Caribbean resort. You both managed to rub every damned spare penny together and finally found yourselves living a much needed pleasure. 

You spent your mornings indulging in piña coladas and your afternoons barefoot on powder soft sand with cool foam kissing your ankles. Taking in the salty ocean air.

To Joel’s credit, you were finally getting to see a side of him you weren’t able to in your entirety of knowing him. 

The deep creases of his brows had disappeared, replaced by something softer, easier. The only lines on his face now were the crows feet that appeared in his relaxed laughter. Work and responsibility kept him on his feet back in Austin. But here? With Tommy stepping up to manage Miller’s Construction, Joel had let himself breathe.

A man unburdened. Lord knows he’d deserved it. Though it was a double edged sword.

You’d never found your husband sexier than ever in his relaxed state and your libido was through the fucking roof.

If his hand wasn’t resting on the small of your back, it was tangled in yours, his thumb brushing lazy circles into your palm. And when it wasn’t there? It was on your thigh beneath the dinner table, his fingers tracing the outline of your knee absentmindedly.

You found yourself stealing glances at him.

In complete awe at the man who could quite literally wrestle a washing machine up three flights of stairs without breaking a sweat—look so utterly peaceful, sprawled on the sun lounger. With sand clinging to his calves and a vibrant blue book spread open within his thumb and forefingers. 

Good fucking god. His hands.

Your palm crinkled around the sweet peach seltzer that you pulled from the mini cooler, desperate to quench the growing thirst. The fizz popped against your lips as Joel glanced up from his book, offering you a smile with the soft shadow you brought with you. An angel you were, he thought. 

He adjusted just enough to plant a kiss on your cheek, his scruff tickling your skin. A grin spread across your face and you leaned in to steal a proper kiss, only for him to swerve to give the book his attention.

“Enjoying your honeymoon with the book?” You snark, flopping onto the soft white cushion beside him. Unpacking the essentials you’d lugged out here.

“Don’t be dramatic, darlin’. S’a good book.” He remarks, voice slow and warm, like honey dripping from its dipper. He doesn’t lift his gaze to look at you. Though his palm comes up to knead around your waist in a half assed attempt to acknowledge your existence.

You huffed, sinking into the lounger. The deep blues of your bikini catching in the sunlight. Joel’s gaze flicked up for a moment and you caught the way his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, like he was trying to play it cool. 

He snorted suddenly. “You tryin’ to be the book, hopin’ I’ll look atcha’ more?”

You paused, squinting at him before glancing down at your bikini and then the book cover. Damn it. They were the same shade of blue. A groan left you as you grabbed the sunscreen and tossed it his way.

“Don’t start. It’s a coincidence, Miller.”

He catches the bottle one handed, setting his book aside. You notice him eyeing you again as you turn to present your back. This surely would rile him up just a little and finally get his attention, wouldn’t it?

The untied straps of your bikini dangled and you give him a pointed look over your shoulder.

“Well?”

“Aight, Mrs Miller. C’mere.”

He muttered a curse underneath his breath, squeezing a dollop of sunscreen into his palm. He worked the lotion over your shoulders and down your back, his calloused hands moving slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second. The curve of your waist–down to the dip of your spine, it was all too much.

“You sure this ain’t part of your plan?” he begins, his voice low, a little strained now.

“What plan?” you tossed over your shoulder, feigning innocence.

“Mmhmm. You’re real sneaky, y’know that?”

You smirked, closing your eyes as his hands smoothed over your skin. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lets out a frustrated little breath, planting a chaste kiss on the back of your shoulder like it might ground him. His hands lingered for just a second too long on the gentle curve of your waist before he pulls away, clearing his throat and settling back into his lounger.

Joel was still a red-blooded man. How the hell was he supposed to keep his head straight when his wife looked like that, all soft and pretty, perched right there like she didn’t know the power she had over him?

Without another word, Joel busies himself with fiddling the pages. Trying real hard to convince himself he hadn’t just lost that round. But the way his thumb taps restless against the edge of the book gave him away.

You knew going into this relationship that being a man almost a decade older than you would entail a quieter life. 

Joel’s age had never been an issue. Not when he could still work circles around men half his years and definitely not in bed. No, he had no need for the blue pill, thank you very much. But times like this? Times when you’d laid yourself out like a fucking michelin star dessert and he couldn’t be bothered to take so much as a bite? 

That was fucked.

You lift your shades to perch on your head, glancing around the beach. It was almost empty, just a few scattered umbrellas and the rhythmic sound of waves breaking against the shore. Yet here he was, sunk deep into his book. The golden rays danced along his tanned skin, kissing the flecks of gray in his beard like he was a goddamn painting.

Your teeth catches your bottom lips before you finally decide to make a move. With a casual shift, you scooted snug next to him, thigh hooking around his underneath your paisley blue and white blanket. Your fingers drift to rest over his, twisting the cool silver of his wedding band.

Joel doesn’t look up right away but he gives a soft grunt of acknowledgement. Tugging you closer with a firm hand on your waist. He leans in to press a kiss just below your ear, the scrape of his beard sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Oh, not much,” you replied, glancing pointedly at his book. “Just wondering if it’s one of those magic books from Harry Potter that sprouts new pages.”

He smirks, finally tilting his head to look at you, eyes full of that slow, teasing mischief. “Maybe it’s ‘cause someone keeps tryin’ to distract me.”

You gasped, hand flying to your chest like you were scandalized. “Me? I’d never.”

“Uh huh,” he hums, clearly unconvinced.

You swat at his arm playfully but he catches your wrist, pulling you in for a deep kiss. It wasn't a chaste one this time. His lips locked with yours, slow, attentive. The taste of piña colada lingered on his tongue, mingling with the faint tang of sea salt from his earlier dip in the ocean. Your hands drift to the strings of his red swimsuit, sliding lower down the middle. 

That makes him pull away. Looking at you half-lidded, though he doesn’t quite move your hand. 

“You tryin’ to get us arrested, baby girl?”

“There’s no one around, Joel.” 

You offer as you lean in to kiss him again. You feel him hesitate, rightfully so. Maybe it was the drinks you’d pumped into your systems earlier, but Joel doesn’t push you away this time. His rough palm comes to wrap around the back of your neck, drawing the sweetness of peaches from the seltzer from your tongue into his. 

“Gotta make it quick, then.” He murmurs into your lips as you feel him guide you onto his lap. To your delight, your husband was already rock fucking hard for you. 

He lets out a drawn out sigh as you rock your hips onto his erection, his palm steady behind you to encourage your movements. He couldn’t have been any harder now. “Lookin’ like fuckin’ sin.” His thumb swipes up to the gusset of your bikini bottoms. 

“What’re you trying to do t’me?” 

You smile against his lips. “Finally noticing your poor neglected wife?” You flip your hair to the other side of your shoulders to nip at his ear lobe. He tenses at that, grabbing your jaw with a rough hold. 

“Had to, baby. Else we’d be spendin’ this entire vacation with my cock stuffed in this needy fuckin’ pussy.” 

You shudder at the want in his voice. You attempt to reply but a thumb slips into your parted lips, two fingers coaxing the drool out. 

You let out a soft uunff as Joel pulls out his fingers with a string of your saliva following. “Gross. Supergoop tastes like shit.” 

“Yeah well, didn’t give me much time to get all cleaned up for you now did ya?”

He grins at your little complaints about the taste of sunscreen on his fingers. You were quickly shut up by the sensation of his split slick fingers nudging into your pussy. 

You groan out. Hips jumping as he probes into you gently. You catch the flutter of your beach blanket in your peripheral, watching as Joel covers both of you–as well as it could've from the bottom down. 

“Don’t think that’s gonna do shi—hhhhiitt.” Your words slurrs at Joel’s steadily thrusts into your pussy. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders. “God. Baby that’s so—…so good..” You manage, words barely a whisper.

Joel leans in to pepper kisses up your jaw. “I know. Practically suckin’ my fingers in.” He mumbles against your neck, fingers squelching deeper into your walls, caressing it in a repeated motion. His thumb swipes against your throbbing clit simultaneously. 

“So fuckin’ warm n’ soft. She’s gonna milk my cock dry.” He mutters, more so to himself. 

A sharp shiver creeps down your spine. “J-Joel—…i’mclose—…shit i’msosoclose—“ You mutter incoherently. Your hips rising a little to Joel’s persistent finger-fucking. 

He hums against your shoulder. Other hand, keeping your hips down firm, making sure you felt the full bearing of his two fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy. “Give it t’me.”

Your eyes roll back in pure fucking ecstasy within a matter of seconds. Hips attempting to squirm away from Joel’s fingers. He kisses your cheeks softly. 

“Good fucking girl.”

You let out a fucked out giggle. Suckling at his jaw and down his neck. Joel doesn’t give you much of a cool down, evident in the way he’d already been sliding his pre-cum soaked cock out of his swim trunks, nudging the tip against your sticky folds.

His thumb pushes aside the gusset of your bikini bottoms further, watching your slick bubble around the soaked fabric. 

“Lookit’, all ready to fuckin’ go.” He grins. With a quick glance around to check for the soul of another, he fully sheathes himself into you. 

He groans out and earns a pathetic whimper from you at the motion. Joel tips his head back against the lounger. Almost seizing up at how your tight pussy strangles his cock. 

“Oh, god!” 

“Ain’t god, sugar. All me.” 

He chuckles at the way you shoot him a warning look, though it held no bite. Joel wraps his arm around your hips to piston himself into your pussy. 

The sounds of your cunt squelching as you slam down onto his pelvis spurs you on even further as you ride him. Joel looks up. Letting out a sssst as though he’d been burned at the sight of your tits bouncing before him like a goddamned porn star. 

“Right outta Hustler issue cover, baby girl.” 

“Lucky you.” You laugh a little. Head tipped back to keep up your momentum, rocking your hips to his periodic grinds. You wince as your hair sticks to the back of your shoulders uncomfortably. The prick of overstimulation long gone at the glint of Joel’s gaze on you. 

You feel the strings at the back of your bikini unravel at Joel’s gentle tug, allowing your bikini top to shift just enough for your tits to spill out. 

Joel gathers your hair loosely off your shoulders. Driving headfirst to pop a tit into his mouth. The grumble he emits against your chest makes you giggle, the scruffiness distracting you from your discomfort. 

“Ahhh shit!” You whine out. His hips stutter relentlessly into you as you arch deeper to rest your full body weight onto him. Letting him do the work as he lazily thrusts into you. 

“Aww sweetheart, tired already? Lettin’ yer old man do all the damn work?” You offer a mere grunt at his taunt. “Shut up. You’re the one taking for-fucking ever.”

Joel doesn’t respond to you right away, but you get the memo when he pretty much begins to thrust into you like a man unhinged. 

The grip around the back of your hair turns meaner when he tugs you to look at him. Deep brown eyes pooling in admiration and sheer fucking need. 

“Look at me.” He commands. The way he jackhammers into your pussy being the only constant. “Look at me when I fuckin’ cum in this pussy.”

Your gaze flickers in slight surprise, soft gasps turning into moans when he thumbs your clit. “W-Wait. Joel—I-I can’t.” You manage when the sensation builds in you again. 

He adjusts his hold onto your hair in a pleasant grip. Making sure you looked at him while he fucked you hard and fast. 

“Yeah y’can.” He grunts into your ears, fucking you deeper in shorter bursts now. Joel could feel his balls steadily tensing up. 

“Give daddy nother’ one n’ I’ll consider fuckin’ this come deep into ya.” 

You grit your teeth in focus, desperate to give him what he wanted. If you couldn’t come with just his fat cock poking deep into you, you’d come at the way he was looking at you. Brows knit in focus, lips twitched in an attempt to not come. 

You finally falter, nails digging into his shoulder as your gaze flashes white and orange. Squeezing around his cock. Joel shudders at the sensation. 

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna—” 

You snap your gaze up when you hear a shuffle from behind the parasols. It doesn’t register in your head how you managed to grab the yellow and white and yellow tube. 

Joel seems to catch your shock, but he isn’t able to stop his cum from spurting deep into your cunt the same time you squirt an obscene amount of sunscreen into his chest. 

His hand instinctively comes up to adjust your bikini top, more so to make sure he isn’t letting his wife flash her yabbos out to other people. 

You stiffen up, palm smearing the sticky white lotion down Joel’s chest as one of the resort workers comes around with arms full of beach cleaning supplies. 

“Um…bonjou?”

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (16 – 31 March 2025)

We are so close to 16,000 fics in the ship tag, up from 15,000 in just December 2024!

Also, I’ve been loving this recent spate of same-age F/F Tomarry fics popping up, particularly all the AUs of other beloved media, with a lesbian twist! They’ve all been so fun to read! I started making a list for myself to keep track of all the different AUs, and figured I should share them here too:

⭐ Want some Mean Girls-inspired Tomarry? I urge you to read apex predator by @houndsofheaven (E, 7k, WIP) ⭐ What about Heathers-inspired Tomarry? Please check out an asteroid that's overdue by @cealesti (M, 4k, WIP) ⭐ Timeline mashup AU? Yes please! The Good Knight by @mosiva (E, 49k, WIP) ⭐ As for a college AU, what could be more terrifying than Tom as a Delta Ep in the devil wears sorority letters by @aitafrog (T, 8k, WIP) ⭐ Medieval lesbian Tomarry based off an 18th century poem? A beautiful offering in a star hath set by @curioushabitforarivergod (E, 3k, complete)

*

Tomarrymort Completed Fics

Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 60k, complete)

"I—I like you. For some reason. I dunno. It sounds… I know how it sounds. But—I do. I like you, Tom. And I was hoping you'd let me come see you over the summer, or—y'know, write to you." Tom expects to feel victorious at his greatest enemy's confession. Instead, he develops a crush on him.

you try so loud to love me, I cannot seem to hear by @boyneptunee (M, 7k, complete)

Tom thinks his husband is only in it for the money. Harry, on the other hand, tries to build a Home. Or: Modern!Au where they get married out of convenience. It backfires, obviously. OR: They collide like two burning stars and destroy everything in their path. Then they try to build a life on the dust that settles.

penance by @cindle-writes (E, 11k, complete) 

Tom Riddle suffers from constant intrusive thoughts about killing people. His priest, Father Harry, wonders when is the day he’ll snap and go too far.

*

Tomarrymort One-Shot Must Reads 

One Shot | a star hath set by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | To Live is to Change by @mosiva

One Shot | Pom-Poms & Perverts by @known-concepts

One Shot | disturbing the peace by @duplicitywrites

One Shot | soft edges, burning wild by @cindle-writes

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Must Reads

Chapter 39 of With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally

Chapter 21 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapters 23 through 28 of the whole wideness of the night is for you by The_Side

Chapters 17 through 19 of thimble of the banshee by @houndsofheaven

Chapters 23 and 24 of the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3

Chapter 3 of for i am with you by @solelyseeking

Chapter 27 of What In Me Is Dark, Illumine by @telelli-writes

Chapter 1 of Indecent Harvest by @duplicitywrites @moontearpensfic

Chapters 7 through 9 of Follow where she goes by @mosiva

Chapters 6 and 7 of exitium by @leafsandstarlight

Chapter 1 of i put a spell on you by @ohyondermemphis

Chapters 23 through 25 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapters 5 through 8 of Hold me as I drown by @smolangryslytherin

Chapter 3 of Under the Dreaming Dark by @aglassroseneverfades

Chapter 2 of the devil wears sorority letters by @aitafrog

Chapters 1 and 2 of angel on a satellite by @houndsofheaven

Chapter 11 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapter 12 of Fool me once by @holaolla1

Chapter 148 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 1 of Augurey's Glass by anonymous

Chapter 1 of let the world come at you love by @boyneptunee

Chapter 26 of Date Ideas for the Linguistically Inclined by Antique_Mango

Chapters 15 and 16 of Part Two - To Grow a Heart by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 2 of Ouroboros by @allthesmilesxo

Chapter 76 of I Can't Carry This Anymore by lemonchase

Chapters 16 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 1 of an asteroid that's overdue by @cealesti

Chapter 12 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

Chapter 1 of Take Any Form by @rowena-rain

*

[aemondapologistfrfr]

A Gift for You

aegon x f!betrothed!reader 

Part 2 to Lip Gloss or could be read alone!

Summary: You and Aegon can barely contain yourselves on your wedding day and retire early for the night.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, cum play, like two cups of wine, fingering, oral(f+m), p in v, breeding kink

Authors Note: yk the ‘lip gloss’ in these two fics is prob some of the f o u l e s t shit i’ve written but like i also want aegons lip gloss 🧎🏼‍♀️

Word Count: 3.2k

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Aegon peels his eyes open at the rushed knocks on his door. The doors are pushed open and handmaidens rush in offering him wine and getting his ceremonial trousers and jerkin out of his wardrobe. He rubs his eyes and blinks around trying to get used to the sun. 

“Good morning, my Prince. Your wedding ceremony begins in two hours.” he waves them off and rises from bed.

“Yes, yes,” he wipes his face.

“And your wife to be is demanding your presence.” one of them whispers and he nods to himself.

“Then I’ll be back.” he nods. 

Aegon pulls on a tunic and brushes his hair out of his face before grabbing his cup of wine. He exits his chambers and leisurely walks down the hall with a ridiculous smile on his face. He raises his glass and smiles to the people in the halls basking in the excitement of the day. He rounds the corner to your hall and sighs when he sees your flock of handmaidens outside. 

“She’s waiting for you, my Prince.” they bow their heads and he nods, striding into your chambers and clicking the door shut behind him. 

“Where is my sweet girl? Soon to be my sweet wife?” he coos and you jump up from your chaise and run over to him. 

“Good morning.” you jump into his arms and press your lips against his neck. 

“What can I do for you this morning?” he sets you down and places his lips against yours. 

“I need your cock.” you grab onto the front of his trousers and he grunts. 

“Not until later.” he chuckles. 

“But I need lip gloss for the ceremony and you said I could use yours for our wedding.” you pout, sliding down to your knees.

“Yeah, that, of course.” he finishes his cup and discards it on the table before he starts to unlace his trousers. “Open your mouth.” he smirks down at you as you sit back on your feet and look up at him. He fists his cock watching you squeeze your thighs together. 

“When will you let me put it in my lip gloss tube?” you whine. 

“My Gods you’re fucking indecent with your lip gloss and now you want to carry it around with you?” he brings his tip closer to your mouth and you lap against his slit causing more droplets to appear.

“Please, Aeg, as a wedding gift?” you press your lips against his tip. “Please,” you whisper, replacing his hand with yours. “Please, please,” you trace his tip around your lips and he groans watching them glisten. 

“Fine, go get your tube.” you squeal and let go of his cock rushing over to your vanity. You come back with an empty tube and get on your knees once more. “Well how do you want to do this?” he grunts as you grab his cock once more. 

“Like normal and then when it starts to come out I’ll hold the tube like right here?” you tilt your head as your tongue slides up his slit. “Do you think it’ll work?” you blink up at him. 

“We can try.” he breathes out. 

“Thank you.” you hum and suck his cock into your mouth. 

You swirl your tongue along his length before pulling him out of your mouth smiling at the string of spit and come connecting you both. You place open mouth kisses down his cock as he brushes your hair out of your face. You suck him back into your mouth fully and sigh when he hits the back of your throat. You look up at him and take in his flushed face and heaving chest. 

“Fuck, sweet girl.” he pants as you bob your head quickly. You lean back until only his tip is in your mouth and you suction around him hearing his low curses. “Get your tube.” he grits out through his teeth. You reach around for the tub as your tongue lashes against his slit and you taste more leaking out. You pull off with spit trailing down your chin and stroke him fastly. “Oh fuck, just like that.” he groans. 

“I love your cock so much.” you hum moving your hand faster. “It makes my favorite lip gloss.” you smile up at him. You watch his stomach flex and bring the tube near his tip. “Thank you.” you coo and his pleasure starts to coat the tube. You let it fall around the tube and in your hand and he watches you with parted lips as you continue to pump him. 

“My fucking Gods,” he pants. “I fucking love you so much. I can’t wait to split you open later.” you flush at his words as his pleasure continues to spurt out of him. 

He steps back and watches you use the brush to push it in your tube. You scoop it off your hands and the sides of the tube and he shakes his head walking to your bathing chambers to get you a cloth. Just thinking about what you’re doing has him hardening again as he situates himself back in his trousers. You twist the lid back on and look up at him with a smile as he returns. 

“Thank you, Aegon.”you hum as he tilts your head and starts to wipe off your face and goes to grab your hand but you bring it to your mouth to clean it off. 

“Of course, sweet girl.” he helps you stand back up. “Did you get enough?” he looks at the tube grasped in your hand. 

“More than enough. We won’t have to fill it again for a couple days.” he groans, pulling you against him. 

“And what of your lip gloss? Can I have some?” he purrs, pulling up your nightdress. 

“Later. My handmaidens need to finish getting me ready.” you press your lips to his and walk him to the door. 

“And if I were to beg for your cunny the way you beg for my cock?” he whispers, leaning against the door. “I can be quick. I can tell your little cunny is dripping.” he watches your flush deepen. 

“How-“ quick knocks on your door cut your words. 

“There’s but an hour to the ceremony. The Queen urges you both to get ready and now.” a brave handmaiden talks through the door. 

“Later then.” Aegon presses his lips to your quickly before slipping out of your chambers. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Aegon adjusts in his seat watching you pull your lip gloss out for the third time in an hour and spread his come across your mouth. Everytime he pecks your lips he can taste himself on you and he’s slowly losing his composure. Your laugh rings throughout the hall as you laugh at some joke someone spouted out but all he’s focused on is his come coating your lips. 

“Let’s retire.” he whispers in your ear and you bat him away. 

“We haven’t even received all of our gifts yet.” you pout, patting his thigh. 

“I have a gift for you in my trousers.” his lips graze your ear causing you to squirm. 

“What is it?” you grab onto his cock and he grunts. 

“Gods, we're in a hall full of people.” he grabs your wrist, softly chuckling. 

“Well I want my gift.” you lean back and look at him.

“You want my cock in front of all these people?” you shake your head with wide eyes. “Then I’ll give you your gift when we retire.” you lean up and press your lips to his and squeak when he licks along your lip. “I think you need to put some more lip gloss on.” he smirks watching you pull out your tube.

“We might have to refill it in the morning.” you show him the half empty tube.

“We can refill it tonight.” he plucks the tube from your fingers and takes the brush to swipe it across your lips. You run your tongue across your bottom lip and he swipes more of your gloss on to you only for you to lick it off your lip once more. “If you want it so badly you can go under the table and take it from the source.” he watches your cheeks flush.

“I would like that.” you nod and start to slide out of your chair. He grabs onto your arm and stands clearing his throat. 

“We’re retiring.” he announces and there are a couple hushed chuckles.

Aegon ignores his mothers protest about the early hour and he waves her off before helping you to your feet. You giggle as he presses his lips to your hand and he leads you out of the hall. You hold onto his arm as he leads you through the Keep . 

“Do you need anything from your chambers?” he pulls you closer to his side. 

“No.” you shake your head. “We’re sharing chambers from now on, right?” you look up at him. 

“If that’s what you would like.” he nods. 

“Would you like it?” you tighten your grip around his arm. 

“Of course, I want you as close as possible.” you smile leaning against his arm. 

He slows when he approaches his chambers and pushes the doors open for you. He shuts the doors behind the both of you and watches you look around. You let your eyes flutter shut when you feel his hands brush away your hair and begin to press his lips against your neck. 

“You are so beautiful, sweet girl.” he murmurs against your skin. 

His fingers begin to loosen your laces and smiles as you lean back into him. He slowly starts to slide your gown off your shoulders pressing his lips to you listening to your soft gasps. Your skin heats as Aegon's fingers trace every place his lips linger. Your gown is slowly pulled down past your hips until it falls to pool on the ground. Aegon walks around you and offers you his hand to step away from the fabric. His hands grab onto your waist and pull you against him as he captures your lips. 

“Aegon,” you gasp softly as he starts to pull up your slip. 

“I’m right here.” he smiles “Can I see you?” he hums. You nod and step back and soon your slip is tossed next to your gown. “My Gods you’re divine.” his hands trace over every inch of skin before pulling you back against him and kissing at your neck. 

“Can I see you?” you whine pulling at his jerkin and he chuckles. 

“Go ahead.” he watches you quickly undo the buttons and begin tugging off his jerkin and his tunic is quick to follow. You’re quick to unlace and push down his trousers and he’s equally as eager to step out of them. “Let’s go to the bed.” he lifts you up and lays you back on the bed and groans as you part your legs. 

“I want to kiss you.” you reach out for him as he looks down at you. “Please.” you whisper. Aegon settles between your thighs and presses his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him and your legs are quick to pull his waist down to yours. 

“Slow down.” he chuckles, kissing down your jaw. His lips linger on your throat before he scoots down to your breast. He looks up at you as he flicks his tongue against your nipple and watches you shutter. 

“Oh,” you gasp, bringing your hands to his shoulders. “Aegon, yes,” you whine when he sucks the hard peak into his mouth. A moan slips free when his fingers find your wetness. His tongue lashes against your chest when your soft sounds greet his ears. 

“Your cunny is so wet for me.” he mumbles moving over to your other nipple. “Shh, shh,” he chuckles. “If you’re quiet you’ll be able to hear it.” he smirks when you bite your lip. Your eyes roll back when his fingers speed up and you can hear the pleasure coating his hand. “That’s my good girl.” he hums before sucking your nipple into his mouth. 

“Mm, Aeg- I,” a small sob comes from you as you fall apart. 

He looks up at you watching your eyes screw shut as he continues to swirl his fingers. As he kisses down your navel his fingers start to circle your entrance. Your soft gasp is followed by his favorite whimper when his tongue licks against your bud. He chuckles as your hips slowly start to rock against his face seeking more. 

“I’m going to use my fingers to get your little cunny ready for my cock, okay?” you peel your eyes open and look down at him nodding quickly. 

A low groan comes from him when he pushes one finger into you. You whimper above him when he starts to circle his tongue around your bud while slowly pumping his finger. He smirks seeing your legs start to shake when he speeds up his movements. He brings a second finger to your core and slowly starts to push it in with the first. He pushes two fingers into you watching you arch off the bed. He focuses on your bud as he feels you squeezing around his fingers. 

“Yes, Aegon,” you breathe out clawing at the sheets. He pushes his fingers faster and he’s graced with your high pitched whimpers. “Please, please,” your pleasure coils as you press against his fingers. You go taut when your high slams through you.

“Are you ready for my cock, sweet girl?” he continues to push his fingers into you. “Your cunny is squeezing my fingers begging to be filled.” he chuckles at your small whines. “Do you want to be filled, sweet girl?” you nod your head, softly rocking your hips. “I wanna hear you say it.” your cheeks flush. 

“I want you,” you gasp as his tongue flicks against your bud. “To fill my cunny. Please,” you whine when he slips his fingers out of you. 

He kisses back up to your mouth while he slides his tip through your wetness. He grabs onto your thigh as you wrap a leg around him pulling him down. Your hand is gripping onto his shoulder as he presses against your entrance. He reaches between you both and guides his tip into you. Your small gasps cause his jaw to clench as you wrap your other leg around his waist as he pushes in another inch. 

“Aegon,” his name a plea. 

“You’re doing so good.” he hums, pressing his lips against your neck. “You feel so good. My sweet girl with her perfect little cunny.” he grunts finally bottoming out. 

“I’m so- I’m,” your voice cracks. “So full, Aegon.” you peel your eyes open to look up at him. “Please,” you gasp as he slowly starts to pull out. “Aegon,” your fingers dig into his shoulders at the stretch. 

He attaches his thumb to your bud and starts to rock into you. You lock your ankles behind him as his movements slowly quicken. He smashes his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as his hips fall into you faster. With every swipe of his thumb your walls pulse around him until you’re whimpering into his mouth. 

“Aegon, I’m-“ he watches as you tremble beneath him as you squeeze around him. 

“Do you want me to fill your cunny?” he pants, pushing into you relentlessly. “Hm? Want me to fuck my seed into you? Do you want to swell with our child?” you nod your head babbling incoherently. 

He snaps his hips into you one last time before you feel his pleasure seep into you. He sucks at your neck as he continues to pump into you slowly. You hold onto him tightly bringing your hands up to tangle into his hair. You pull him up to your mouth letting your tongues dance. He slowly pulls out and you furrow your brows trying to pull his hips back. 

“Aegon, please,” you try to pull him back down. 

“I know.” he rubs your legs slowly, kneeling back. He watches your body softly shake before you sit up and begin to crawl in his lap. “Gods, sweet girl.” he grunts as his hands grab onto your ass when you grind against him. 

“I want you back inside.” you rub yourself against his cock. 

“In a minute.” he chuckles, helping guide your movements. 

“I want your cock now.” you whine. “Aegon, husband,” you whisper. “Please,” you reach for his hardening cock and he shakes his head at your desperation. 

“Alright, alright.” he chuckles. “Lay back.” you cling onto him tighter so he holds onto you and lays you back on the bed. He goes to lift up and you whine pulling him back. “We’re gonna roll over.” you nod and he flips onto his back and you splay on his chest. “Do what you want.” he wants to see how desperate you truly are. 

“My cunny really likes your cock.” you hum, rolling your hips against him. You grab his cock and run it up your slit, softly gasping as you circle it around your bud. “Yes,” you whine bringing the tip back down to your entrance. “Aegon,” he watches you slowly sink down, shutting your eyes once he’s buried in you.

“I need you to move, sweet girl.” his fingers dig into your waist. He slowly lifts you up and you press your hips back down. He lifts his knees up and you immediately lean back into them as you start to grind against him. “Fucking Hells,” he pants when you start to bounce against him. He moves his hands to your chest and when he pinches your nipples you start to move faster.

“Yes, please,” he watches your eyes close and he can’t take your slow movements anymore. His hands fall to your waist once more as he starts to fuck you against him. “I- Aegon,” you fall forward on his chest and he hammers up into you as you whimper into his ear. 

“Taking my cock so well.” his hand lands on your ass and you jolt forward. “Your cunny is just begging to be filled again.” his pace falters when you begin to pulse around him. He regains his pace and listens to the gasps of his name as you slide against his chest. When his high begins to wash through him, he wraps his arms around you tightly, slowly pumping into you.

“Just stay inside.” you whisper in his ear, wiggling your hips. “I just-“ you gasp as he snaps his hips up once. “I just need to rest my eyes.” he watches as your eyes shut and you rest your cheek against his chest. 

“I’m here. You can rest.” he presses his lips to the top of your head and begins to rub your back. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

someone fkn sedate me i adore this man 

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters

[oogaboogasphincter]

Cheeky Minx (Joel Miller x reader)

a/n: listen, i’m on my period and craving two things: snacks and joel miller. so apparently all you’re getting is joel fics centered around a snack of my choosing (re: peace offering).

warnings: mild swearing, joel being extra flirty (and a little corny lol), reader is referred to with she/her pronouns once but has no other description besides there’s a big (legal ofc!) age gap between them and joel | 561 words

You're on a road trip with Joel, climbing over the dusty hills of Texas. Some of Joel's favorite songs play softly on the radio, muffled by the old speakers of his well-loved truck. Right now, you're on a back road so Joel has rolled the windows down as you drive along at a cruising pace. The breeze is a nice reprieve from the bright sun that has been glaring through the windscreen all afternoon.

You unbuckle for a moment to root around in the backseat, earning a soft squeeze to your ass from Joel as he grumbles, "You're takin' too long, get back up here and put your seatbelt on before we get pulled over."

You just ignore him with a shake of your head and a soft chuff.

He teases, "You wanna add an indecent exposure charge to that ticket, ma'am?" He tugs at the waist of your shorts and you reach back to swat him away, eliciting a satisfied chuckle from your man.

After a little more searching, you find what you were looking for: a snack. You sit down and buckle back up, opening the crinkly bag and scooping a handful into your mouth. In the comfortably quiet cabin of the truck, you busy yourself with reading the labels on the bag as you eat.

"When did they add bagel chips to Chex Mix?" you wonder aloud.

"Huh?" Joel says.

"These little bagel chips, I don't remember them." You take one out of the bag, twirling the pale chip in your fingers before giving it a taste.

Joel shoots you a bemoaned look, his tone grumbling, "God... Sweetheart, please don't make me feel any older than I already do."

"What?" you ask, concern furrowing your brow.

He explains, "There was a whole deal about the makers pulling the bagel chips out of the mix around... I wanna say, 2010? People went crazy, signing petitions and picketing, didn't you watch the ne—?"

Joel cuts himself off as he looks over at you and your meager attempt to hide a knowing smirk. The realization dawns on him and he looks back at the road with a heavy sigh.

You begin, "I was—"

Joel holds up his hand and says, "Don't rub it in, sweetheart. You've already chastised me enough today about my music choice alone."

You chide teasingly, "You didn't let me finish my sentence."

He glances over wary, anticipatory.

"I was going to say I was too busy learning cursive to watch the news."

Joel grabs the bag with his free hand and gives it a playful tug, muttering through his teeth with faux malice, "Gimme this—"

You yell playfully, giggling, "No!"

He lets you win the fight easily. After a few moments of silence, he holds out his open palm and curls his fingers twice, "Lemme get one of those bagel chips." He has the gall to maintain that he doesn't act like a dad and yet he just pulled possibly the most dad-coded move of all time.

You bypass his hand and put one in his mouth, listening to him crunch through the starch. He reaches over to give your thigh a thankful squeeze before returning his hand to the wheel. Then... his face sours and he shoots a glare at the bag in your lap, mumbling over the dry crumbs, "Who the fuck wanted these back?"

main masterlist 🥯 join my taglist!

taglist: @pascalpanic @maievdenoir @pedrostories @uncassettodiricordi @harriedandharassed @scentedcandletidalwave @joelsflannel @oscar-wilde-thing

[runninriot]

Dirty Wishes On My Mind

written for @steddiesongfics and @steddiesmuttyseptember

inspired by the song FU In My Head by Cloudy June | SSS prompt: clothes on | rated: E | wc: 4.172 | tags: sexual content, indecent behaviour in public (but they don't get caught), dirty talk, dry humping, coming in pants, confessions, realisations, Eddie has a Crush on Steve, Steve has a Revelation, friends to lovers | complete fic on ao3

    “I’m telling you, Stevie! That guy had no shame whatsoever. Didn’t even hesitate to pull blank in front of me to show off that ridiculous tattoo right above his dick. It was horrendous! I even offered to cover it up for free but he declined, said the ladies dig it.”

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. The things you have to put up with sometimes in his field of work never ceases to amaze him.

   “But hey, can’t say I didn’t like the overall view. A feast for my imagination. I’ll definitely use it the next time I’m ‘feeling lonely’.”

He uses his fingers to sign quotation marks and wiggles his eyebrows, delighted at the blush creeping up Steve’s cheeks when he realises what Eddie means by that.

Steve’s always been a little shy when it comes to talking about these things but they’ve been friends long enough for him to have gotten used to Eddie’s big, unfiltered mouth.

Eddie loves to rile him up, just a little, never so much that it makes him truly uneasy but enough to get a little kick out of it himself.

Steve’s cute when he blushes.

He’s damn fucking pretty, always, is the thing.

So what if Eddie stares a little too obvious? It’s not his fault Steve is so-

Nevermind.

He averts his gaze, takes a sip from his drink to cool off, giving Steve the chance to change the subject to something else.

  "Sometimes I fuck you in my head."

Eddie splutters his mouthful of beer half over himself, half over the table, can't believe he heard Steve right.

No. That must be a mistake because he can't possibly have said that.

Right?

   "I don't know why, it's just- sometimes when I touch myself, I think of you, you know?"

Eddie does, in fact, not know. Because what?

   "Steve, dude, look at me. Did you take something? Without me?"

He must've. There's no way he'd talk that much bullshit if he was sober. They've only been here for ten minutes, fifteen max, both still on their first beer and there is no way in hell Steve is already that drunk.

So this must be something else.

Because it is absolutely impossible that his straight best friend would ever fantasize about anything other than boobies and soft lips and long lashes and, hell, maybe even a tight juicy ass – a woman’s ass – to get him going. Steve Harrington does not think about guys when he touches himself. And most certainly not about Eddie.

He’s messing with him, that must be it. A little revenge for Eddie being insufferable.

   “Hah, yeah you got me there, Harrington. For a second, I really thought you’d lost your mind,” Eddie laughs half-heartedly in a weak attempt to cover up the slight tremble in his voice.

    For a second you got me thinking my pining ass died and went to heaven, is the thought he keeps to himself.

Another second goes by and Eddie is still waiting for Steve to laugh, to maybe swat his arm and tell him ‘Ha! Got’cha! You should see your stupid face.’ but that doesn’t happen. Instead, the air thickens and the tension between them makes Eddie nervous.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Steve opens his mouth.

But somehow, that only makes it worse.

   “Is- is that bad?”

Steve turns away, eyes now locked on his own hand where it’s wrapped tightly around his bottle. Something in his friend’s demeanour shifts; it’s like he’s slowly sinking into himself, like he’s trying to hide.

   “Stevie, hey.” Eddie brings his thumb and finger to Steve’s chin, using gentle force to make him look back up again.

He seems so small all of a sudden, sad somehow, but he huffs out an awkward laugh and rolls his eyes.

   “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I don’t even know why I said that.”

Heat spreads in every part of Eddie’s face, up to his ears and down to his chest and his heart skips a beat because-

Steve didn’t take it back. He didn’t confirm Eddie’s assumption of it being a joke, no. He apologised because he thinks he did something wrong.

   “It’s not bad, Steve. I’m just- a little confused.”

Eddie’s hand moves on its own account, wanders higher up, fingertips lightly dancing across his jaw line and over his cheek until they reach Steve’s hair line just above his ear  where he can’t help but dive deeper into his soft strands.

He doesn’t miss the moment Steve’s eyes flutter shut for a too long second, and how his lips slightly part when he lets out a sigh.

   “Why would you think of me when you’re- I thought you’re-“

    Straight, Eddie struggles to say, fears it would come out wrong, maybe sound like an insult which it is not.

Of course, not. Everyone’s free to love and like whatever and whoever they want. It’s just- it bothers Eddie more than he likes to admit because Steve being straight means that he’ll never have a chance.

That his stupid heart will forever be suffering because his best friend will never be more than that. Not his lover, not his partner, only his friend. And that’s okay, that’s fine, perfect even. It’s more than Eddie could hope for.

But that’s exactly what makes it so hard to wrap his head around Steve’s unexpected confession. That’s why it takes Eddie’s breath away when Steve leans into his touch, pupils blown wide in the cosy light of the bar.

   “I-“ Steve stops himself, digs his teeth into his bottom lip as if to prevent any more words from slipping out.

Eddie feels like he’s in trance, doesn’t even know what he’s doing until it’s too late, until his hand has already wandered back down, thumb touching soft flesh when he pulls it free from Steve’s bite, lingering there, tracing the seam – he can’t stop, can’t not push between parted lips where Steve welcomes him with just a hint of tongue, warm and wet.

And Eddie has to swallow a startled moan.

---

continue reading here

[garden-of-rambles]

Some Odysseus/Odypen headcanon ramblings that have been on my mind while writing my fic:

So one of the tags on my story is ‘Odysseus is touched starved’ and for me it feels like such a natural conclusion about his character in general, and the way he interacts with Penelope.

Like, he became King at thirteen, when his dad was in the process of losing himself entirely. He had to "be the man of the house" and take care of everyone else around him, even those that originally would have taken care of him, like his father, or his mother who was preoccupied helping care for her husband/and would know that Odysseus had to step forward as a man sooner than he should have. And of course his younger sister was always someone that he helped take care of, not the other way around.

He is never just Odysseus after that, even among those who are considered close to him. He is King. He is Captain. He is the one who leads and looks after those in his care, and if that means there's no one to do that for him, well...he just gets used to it. He ignores the longing for it that remains, crawling beneath his skin and twisting in his stomach. It's not like he has a choice. That doesn't mean his family or friends didn't try to help, but once Odysseus took on those roles he couldn't be the one seeking comfort, the one needing care or instruction. So many of the comforting and loving touches he had received during childhood just lessen and lessen until they hardly happen at all. He is the man of the house. He is King. He is Captain. He is the one who offers assurance, not the one who needs it. Sometimes there are pats on the shoulder, or brief embraces, but he is usually the one giving them. And it's nice, always, that momentary contact, but they're not ones he wants to linger in. The idea of anyone else reciprocating is...uncomfortable, like clothing that chafes, because this is his role, who he is, what he must define himself by.

Then, of course, he meets Penelope. And the desire for touch is utterly overwhelming. Not just in a sexual way -- though there certainly is that -- but in every way.

The first time, it's such an incidental moment, perhaps only a second or two of contact. They had been talking at night beneath their olive tree -- a name he had already begun to call it by in his mind after just a few meetings -- and he had been in the middle of saying something, telling a story, likely just to make her laugh. But he couldn't say what he'd been talking about, because while he's mid-sentence -- without thought, as if it were the most natural thing to do -- Penelope reaches over, and pulls a twig with some olive leaves from his hair. He hadn't even noticed it caught there, but the barest brush of her fingers makes him speechless. He forgot whatever he had been saying, even as Penelope eyed him in confusion, waiting for him to finish, but he can't, because the only words that would come from his mouth would be him asking her to do that again.

It gets worse after that, but in a way he doesn't want to stop.

He craves it. More than food or water. Maybe even more than the air he breathes. Wanting to touch her he understood, and it was an equal desire that left him constantly stopping himself during the early days of their courtship, when touching where others could see would only get them in trouble. Still, his hands itch to move toward her, to guide her arm or thread her fingers through his, to hold her and kiss her and then do far more indecent things. But how much he needs her to touch him is the surprise, and one he is not prepared for, cannot be prepared for. As they grow closer and it happens more and more, it's as if his need only increases, and it's so strong he doesn't know what to do with it except try to hold it back, as if afraid that somehow this craving would consume them both if he let it.

Penelope notices, of course. She notices everything. It was one of the first things he loved about her.

When she asked if he didn't want her to touch him, for a wild moment he wanted to laugh and cry. Thousands of words get tangled in his throat, all of them inadequate to describe how he not only wants her touch, always, but needs it.

"I want it," He finally can manage. "More than you know."

She nodded, and when she looked at him again with a little smile and a cunning glint in her eyes, he realized her first question had been meant only to reveal this. To get him to admit it.

She tricked him. It left him stunned, dizzy, awed. Somehow more in love with her than he had already been.

"Then do not deprive yourself," She replied, smiling wider. "Or me."

He couldn't, after that. And never was able to again.

sooo uhhhh being touched starved definitely didn't get worse after being away from his wife and son for so long, no no why do you ask??? Its not like the ache of being away from the only people he feels he can be vulnerable around feels like it's actually killing him some days, nope, definitely not.

Anyways, this is something I'm really trying to get across in my own fic, because it just feels so true to his character for me, so I had to word vomit about it for a bit.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 14

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lloyd wheezes and rubs his chest. You look down at him from the other side of chaise. You have to fight to keep the grin from your face. Your eyes slowly drift to the door. 

“Don’t even fucking think—of it,” he huffs as he kicks the chaise into your leg. You wince and let out an ow, “you’re in big fucking trouble now, baby face.” He rolls onto his shoulder and presses his hand to the floor, “fuck.” 

“Sir, I didn’t do anything--” 

“You know what the fuck you did,” he snarls as he sits up. 

“I did nothing. I’m sorry I’m weak,” you pout, “I couldn’t hold on--” 

“Oh my piss!” He pushes himself up to his feet, standing straight with effort, “you don’t stop. You’re going to drive me fucking nuts.” 

You’re quiet as you watch him. Is he not already there? He kidnapped you pretty much and hates you but won’t let you leave. It really seems insane to you. 

“Sir, with all due respect, I have offered to leave you alone.” 

“You just need to learn to shut your mouth,” he stomps around the chaise.  

You scramble into action and back away from him, making a circle around the piece of furniture as he advances, “now, sir,” you put your hands up, “I thought we were having fun. Playing a little game and you know when you play games, you can get hurt.” 

“Stop, come here,” he snarls as he gets closer and you hop backwards to evade his reach. 

“That seems like a bad idea.” 

“I said stop!” 

“You say stop but your eyes say run,” you babble. 

“This is your problem. You just don’t get who’s in charge. Me. I am!” His voice rises to a roar.  

Your eyes round, “I get it, F—Lloyd, I truly understand it. My dad too was a strict man.” 

“Dad? What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You continue your circles around the chaise, dizzy as you stagger on your heels. 

“I’m saying that I have known men like you--” 

“You’re comparing me to your dad?” 

“Well, I’m no fan of Freud by any means--” 

“Jesus!” 

He lunges and you dodge out of his way. He hits the square side table and you yipe. You don’t think you just go. You spin on your feet and race for the door. You let your adrenaline do the thinking as you rip it open and stumble into the hall. 

You won’t get far. You’re not stupid. You’re naked as sin and if you leave the house, you see a quick trip in a cruiser for indecent exposure. Still, you might find somewhere to wait out his rage. Just like with your dad. 

Alright, let’s cool it on the daddy issues here. 

You pump your arms as your feet slap on the floor. He’s following you. You can hear him. Like a charging bull. You can’t look back. You won’t.  

You veer around the corner and don’t have time to think. You don’t know where the heck you’re going. Far away from him is the only option you have. You barrel down the next hall, chest burning, head spinning. You keep going as your puffing fills your head and smothers out his pursuit. 

You can’t go any further. You have to stop. You have to hide! 

You open a door. Shit. It’s a closet but hey, there’s blankets. No time to think, just get in. You climb in an pulled down one of the folded waffle blankets. You shut the door, closing yourself into darkness and wrap yourself in the coveted warmth of the cotton. 

You hear him catch up. He’s just on the other side of the door. He growls and his heel squeaks on the floor. He paces back and forth, opening this door and that. He might think you’re smart enough not to choose the linen closet but that means he’s learned nothing. 

You wait until he’s gone. You shake your head. Having a big house is such a hassle. You can’t imagine cleaning a place like this, although he is the type to hire a cleaner so he probably doesn’t either. Still, what if you lost your phone in here? 

You let the tension flow out and lean back against the wall, keeping your neck bent under the shelf. You sit, folded up in the cramped space, and resign yourself to the tight purgatory. He just needs a minute. He’ll exhaust himself with his tantrum and then you’ll be okay. 

Besides, it seems pretty easy to distract. A few strokes and he’s compliant. Just like a cat. Not to mention he has the whiskers too. 

👄

Despite the uncomfortable circumstance you’ve stuffed yourself into, you fall asleep. There’s something about a traumatic experience that really takes it out of you. You don’t realise you’ve dozed off until the world falls out from under you and you sprawl out on the floor outside the closet. 

Your shoulder hits the cold wood and a woman lets out an exclamation, “Mr. Hansen! Mr. Hansen! There’s--” She sputters as she stares down at your dopey eyes, blinking up at her as reality slowly seeps back in, “there’s a woman!” 

She flutters off and you watch after her. That must be the cleaner. How’d you call it? 

As you sit up, you hear the echoing footsteps. It’s too late. You’re a goner. You clear your throat and cling to the blanket as you stand to face the music, rather, the mustache. 

Lloyd charges down the hall with long strides. You peer around, realising the windows are rather bright, also noting his change of clothes. Either you slept through the night or that closet has time traveling capabilities. 

“There the fuck you are,” he sneers. 

“Hello, sir, fine morning--” 

“Don’t,” he stops in front of you and points in your face, “here’s the deal, alright? We start over.” 

“So if we’re going back to the beginning, can I go home--” 

“Zip. It.” He chops the air with his hand. “You’re not leaving, let’s get that clear. Now, you are not here to talk or do whatever it is you do. You are here to serve me. You are here because you need to learn a thing or two about authority. About who the fuck I am.” 

“Lloyd Jansen,” you mumble and his face pales as the vein in his forehead throbs. “Hansen!” You say louder, “understood, sir.” 

“Why are you like this?” He asks. 

You stare at him. You’re going to try. The olive branch he extends is brittle and thin but it’s something. 

“I will be good, sir,” you put your chin, “I’ll try. I accept. Start again.” You keep yourself from saluting and instead, extend your hand to him, “deal?” 

He stares you in the face then looks down at your hand. He exhales and his cheek twitches. He reaches to shake your hand firmly. He grips tightly until your bones ache. You whimper and wilt. 

“Please, for the love of god,” he begs as he holds onto you, “stop talking for five minutes.” 

You can’t agree. Not aloud. So, you seal your lips emphatically and nod. He lets you go and you look at your wrist but there’s no watch there. You glance at him and shrug, holding up five fingers. He sighs and pinches his nose. 

“Just don’t talk unless I tell you too.” 

[biowaredisasterbisexual]

Sharing Sunday - May 11th

Happy Mother’s Day to those who celebrate it, and yay for SHARING SUNDAY! We’ve got a good mix of stuff this week, with fics from Dragon Age and Baldur’s Gate, so several tasty treats for us all as we head into the week. Thanks so much to everyone who shared this week: you all are awesome!

- From @bestboyargos, a sweet Neverook fic featuring wonderful moments with found family! Fluff through and through.

- @katuary is back with an Astarion/Tav offering from Baldur’s Gate 3, and its name makes me smile: The Absolute Worst Way to Introduce Strange Cats. From the summary: “Fresh off the Nautiloid crash, Lily finds a stranger asking for help on the beach. Turning her back on him is not the wisest decision she's ever made (and that's saying something).”

- On offer from @zennihilation is Earned Respite, a post-game Bellarook fic. From the author: “Months after the events of Veilguard, Juan is finally allowed to bring their girlfriend home for dinner. Just a fluff piece.”

- @chaosherald presents Conductivity, a Rookanis missing scene fic. From the author: “Rook is injured fighting the Formless One. Lucanis has some thoughts on the situation.

Two awkward souls dance around the things they want and need and cannot say and commit indecent acts of intimacy (they hold hands.)

A missing scene in the Rook and Lucanis courtship, post almost kiss in the pantry and pre Inner Demons.”

Happy reading!!

[tsukimefuku]

nanamin ❖ nanami kento

summary: you decide to ask nanami why he keeps getting called ‘nanamin’.

tags: jujutsu kaisen, f!reader, soft/implied nanami x reader, crack drabble, reader is a relentless little devil.

wc: 0.4K

notes, etc: this poor, poor man. this drabble references wardrobe malfunction.

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

“So… I couldn’t help but notice Yuuji keeps calling you ‘Nanamin’ like Gojo used to do,” you noted as you were both walking down the streets of Tokyo towards your next mission.

He involuntarily sighed as he answered, “yes, he does.” 

“So… Why is that?” 

“I couldn’t say. Kids are… Something.” 

“Gojo isn’t a k-” you halted for a second, as Nanami looked at you, and you proceeded with, “you know what, nevermind.” 

After a few seconds, you felt the urge creeping up on you.

The teasing demon was taking hold.

“Hey, what if I called you Nanamin?” 

“I’d slap you,” he answered, not missing a beat.

You chuckled lightly.

“You’re way above hitting me.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he answered, in his characteristically nonchalant way. “Why are you so hellbent on nicknaming me since… always?”

“Because it’s fun!” you replied, grinning widely, “it’s a way to show you appreciate someone, and that you get to poke fun at them with affection and such.” 

He looked at you and lifted an eyebrow.

“Should I start calling you public indecency then, considering the time you called me to lend you some clothes because you blew yours up in the middle of a mission?” 

You stopped in your tracks immediately, and blushed for a second.

Nanami realized he might have taken this a little too far, knowing he could come off as harsh sometimes.

“N-nanami, I-I… I mean… Uh…”

You were stuttering for a moment, remembering the silly debacle.

“I… I apologize,” he offered in earnest, as you were still standing there, looking away.

To be fair, your embarrassment was real in the first few moments, but realizing he was actually feeling bad about it kind of stirred up your antics. So you kept going.

“I mean, we had an agreement we’d never talk about it again… how could you…?” you remarked in the most gut wrenching way possible.

Even under his stoic facade, he seemed to pale.

“I’m truly sorry, I really didn’t mean to… I-” 

The man was faltering.

You couldn’t hold your laughter, and when he realized what you were doing, his eyes were completely taken by annoyance.

“Were you pretending to be mortified?” 

“Not in the beginning, but your face-” you interrupted yourself with another cackle.

He sighed and resumed his stride, saying, “I am not addressing you for the remainder of the day.”

Wiping a few tears from your face, you sprinted slightly to follow him.

“Oh, come on, Nanamin… Don’t sulk… Nanami? Nanami!” 

He did, in fact, ignore you for the rest of the day. 

[wolfboy88]

Fuck it Friday Monday

Tagged by @thiamsalpha @thiamsxbitch @ksbbb @rhyslahey @mmoosen and many others over the last few weeks… I haven’t been writing as much as I would like lately

“Yeah, thanks, I’m fine,” Theo grumbles as no one offers to help him. “I’ll heal.”

 

“I know, you’re like the cockroach that won’t die,” Stiles smiles and is quickly chastised by Scott.

 

Liam whacks Stiles on the back of the head with his giant paw to the squeals and delights of the kids and says something muffled, but Theo knows it’s in defense of him.

 

“Aww, thanks babe,” Theo says, fondly reaching up to straighten the crooked bunny head perched atop Liam’s shoulders and in response, Liam snares him in a bear hug.

 

“Getting a bit handsy there. You really want everyone to know I’m fucking the Easter bunny, huh?” Theo murmurs, voice low and fond as Liam’s hands – paws – sneak lower and give his ass a squeeze. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” The chimera suppresses a groan, heat coiling in his belly and creeping down his groin as his hands fall to Liam’s plush, fluff chest, feeling the softness between his fingers. And mmm, that feels nice.

 

“Mr Bunny, I found the big one!” Interrupts Sierra’s voice.

 

“No! I did,” comes the nasally voice of Lydia and Stiles’ brat.

 

 Theo groans, simultaneously annoyed and relieved at being interrupted.  The last thing he needs is to pop a boner right now in the backyard. “I think I know where I can find an even bigger one,” Theo murmurs against Liam’s neck, right where the mask meets the rest of the costume.

 

“Alright, come one you heathens,” Stiles chides, exasperated. “Stop hogging the Easter Bunny’s attention and let him get back to his job: the egg hunt.”

 

“Yeah, Uncle Theo! Let us finish the hunt!” Thomas says, sounding just like his father – impatient, irritating and a little neurotic. Too bad he didn’t end up more like his mother.

 

“It’s not my fault the Easter Bunny finds me irresistible,” Theo smirks smugly, only to be rewarded with another long, and indecent grope from Liam before Stiles all but drags him away.

 

Theo shakes his head fondly and tries to tamp down on his inappropriate thoughts because he’s definitely not thinking about what those paws would feel like on his bare skin… and ass.

A snippet from a forthcoming Easter Fic

Tagging @chasing-chimeras @theoceanismyinkwell @hemlocksandfoxgloves @blue-hair-and-angels @gayholloway @outcastpack @transdunbar @gayholloway @maplesyrizzup @rd-eternity

[thefanficmonster]

Heavy Metal Lover pt.2

PART 1

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smoking, Paranormal Investigations, Drinking, Swearing, Suggestive Content, Vague Sexual Themes

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Angst with a happy ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right? Or at least that's what Y/N and Colby hope is the case.

NOTE: Sam and Kat are still together in this fic. This detail is not meant to be disrespectful to Sam's current girlfriend in any way.

A rude reminder in the form of dizziness and nausea hits Y/N like a ton of bricks when she sits up all too quickly for her state. A reminder of her excessive partying last night. She was aware the night wouldn't be on a list of her proudest moments for a multitude of reasons even as she was actively indulging interested men in the club - so, she just went with it. Went along with the unruly stream of the river that is a wild night in Vegas. She's not at all pleased with the memory of her eagerness to end the night in someone else's bed - which would've been a mission successful had she not been dragged away from this one guy whose name she can't even recall now. That, in and of itself, is enough of an indication that going home with him or taking him back to her hotel room would've been a bad idea.

She isn't entirely certain who saved her from herself in her active pursuit of a one night stand but her foggy memory suggests it may have been Kat. Y/N would love to thank her for the intervention but a quick roll over to her other side reveals her best friend to still be in her bed, solidly asleep at the ripe early hour of....- she checks her phone - noon.

The most appropriate of times to wake up in Vegas, really.

With a brief outfit change into something that wouldn't get her in trouble for indecent exposure she quietly exits the room as to not disturb Kat who is barely giving any signs of life other than the slow rise and fall of her chest. That's good enough to convince Y/N she'll be ok while she goes to fetch them coffee to get them through the day - their last whole day in Vegas.

Their schedule isn't as packed as yesterday's, thankfully. Unlike the turmoil of the flight, hotel check-in, Oasis investigation and the very late night bar crawl, today they only have the last two items on their itinerary: another investigation and an even later bar crawl. Maybe some gambling if they manage to squeeze it in before they have to take an hour long roadtrip to yet another motel with a shady past and paranormal intrigue.

The hallway is wobbly in front of Y/N, her vision still under the influence of all the tequila - and everything else Kat offered her - she ingested last night. Shot after shot, each thrown back with a silent prayer that it would aid her forgetfulness into erasing whatever happened at the Oasis Motel from her mind. If anything, each drop of alcohol only made it clearer, bringing to light details that were shadowed in the overall power the moment held.

The softness of his lips, warmth of his hands, the scent of his cologne, the weight of his body pressed atop hers on the bed. She was reliving it the whole night as she did her best to avoid him entirely. Talking to him, looking at him, being in the vicinity of his aura, breathing in his direction. And yet she still felt him all around her, all over her. A sensation not even the hottest boiling shower wouldn't wipe off her skin.

Now, if only she could pretend to be blind, deaf and not fluent in English because there's no other way to avoid the oncoming figure without making the lingering awkward tension even thicker...

"Hey."

"Hey."

Neither Y/N nor Colby looks particularly pleased with the fact that the silence had to be broken. Still, unlike her, he should've prepared himself better seeing as how he actively went in search of her. After all, the two cups of coffee in his hand are for her and Kat.

The warmth seeping in through the walls of the cups reminds him of the reason he took this venture in the first place and gives him an easy out of this silence that has befallen them. Still, he lingers in the buzzing quiet between them for a few seconds longer before extending the low-key peace offering her way, "Thought you and Kat could use a pick-me-up."

It's more so testing the waters than a peace offering. There never was nor will there ever be peace between them. As much of a natural disaster as they are, it would be far more detrimental to the planet if they were to put an end to their war and start getting along. It would cause a disturbance on a fundamental level. But after what happened back at the forsaken motel, Y/N would be a fool to think he too isn't as impacted as her.

Colby from 24 hours ago would never bring her coffee. If anything, he'd bring only one cup for Kat, just to prove a point. So much for pretending like nothing happened...

"Which one is poisoned?" Y/N, on the other hand, is better at this play pretend. The whirlwind of emotions and flashbacks manage to stay exactly where they're supposed to be - inside her head. Not an ounce spills over into her body language, expression or words.

Her question almost fills him with relief. Almost. It's a double-edged bitter sword. On one hand, he'd like nothing more than to let things settle back into normality. On the other, he doesn't want to forget what happened between them. Scratch that, let me rephrase - it's not like he can forget what happened. It's been permanently etched into his brain and there is no reversing that process. He simply doesn't want to pretend nothing happened.

When, in fact, everything happened at once. Seven years of animosity crashed and molded together in one burning kiss that had a lot of potential to lead further. But neither of them allows their thoughts to wander down that path.

"It's a gamble." He shrugs all too casually, his outward demeanor not at all corresponding with his internal turmoil.

Y/N can't help but snort at his remark. In the seven years they've known each other, a snort or a scoff is the closest he's managed to get to provoking a laugh from her. She'd never give him that satisfaction, especially not now.

"You better pray nothing happens to Kat or I'll end you." Despite the bite of her words, she still accepts the cups she's being offered. Beggars can't be choosers and all that. Still, she's particularly mindful in avoiding any sort of contact between their hands in the process.

Colby shakes his head with a sigh, "Sheesh, I'm never doing you a good deed ever again."

Y/N allows herself one second of vulnerability - letting her eyes trail over to his tired ones. She sees her own emotions reflected back at her and it only worsens the hangover nausea in the pit of her stomach. That's mainly why the words that leave her mouth end up sounding so bitter, "I'd rather you didn't."

With that, she turns on her heel and makes her way back to her and Kat's shared room, paying no mind - or at least trying not to - to the silence she leaves trailing behind her, suggesting Colby is still in the exact spot, watching her go.

He's used to it, though. He's been watching her go for seven years now, never once having the courage to grab ahold of her before she's out of reach.

* * * * *

Their casino trip was a blur of disappointment and strings of curses before they chose to end it and hop in the car to head over to the Redfield Motel with only a couple earned and many lost dollars in - or missing from - their pockets. Kat abstained from the majority of the gambling to keep an eye on the competitive three that lost far more money than they're willing to admit.

"Hope we have more luck with the paranormal." Sam jokes as the car pulls into the small parking lot of the old but still classy-looking motel that, in comparison to the Oasis, looks like a five star resort.

With that, the gang exits the car with newfound enthusiasm - more so aimed at the partying they'll indulge in after this investigation. Sam and Kat grab the camera equipment while Y/N slings the strap of the duffle bag containing all the investigation equipment over her shoulder. However, she's barely taken five steps away from the car before the bag is swiped from her grasp.

She's not given any time to comprehend what just happened and can only glare at the back of Colby's head as he walks in front of her, not sparing her even s fleeting look.

It's so....normal, for lack of a better term. It's the kind of pettiness Kat swears is their own twisted love language. It's so '24 hours ago' it almost eases her mind.

Almost

And fuck does she hate that word.

"Welcome!" The motel owner meets them at the main entrance with a smile, "I'm Sharon. So happy to be giving you a tour tonight. Our little motel has never really been the most popular and I'm hoping to maybe get the public interested in it. We're opening for official business in about a month which is why we can't have you guys staying the night here. I hope that's not a problem in any way." She explains as she leads them inside in the lobby decorated in a 1920's style reminiscent of Hotel Cortez.

It does elicit a bit of suspicion among the group - the popularity seeking right before a grand reopening, the overall horror aesthetic of the décor, the ominous piano music playing from the carefully disguised sound system. Sam and Colby are no stranger to paranormal baiting from establishments that, at the end of the day, only ever wanted the publicity. It's always been a slippery slope that usually a Google search would be enough to settle but they can never be too sure. Each time they visit an established or in the process of re-establishment hotels or motels, it's a gamble for their reputation and authenticity.

Y/N is a lot less concerned with the honesty behind the supposedly paranormal stories Sharon is currently sharing with them. She's all too focused on appearing composed and relaxed in front of the camera. The blinking red light is almost taunting her, reminding her that she can't let her mask slip off for even a second. No matter the fact that Colby's arm is brushing against her each time either of them moves.

"I'm not sure if I mentioned this over the phone, but I am also a Priestess. I've been calling myself a medium for the longest time until I was corrected by my daughter who's done a bit more research in the terminology and stuff." Sharon's words snap Y/N out of her raging thoughts, momentarily breaking her intense awareness of the camera. Following the motion of the older woman's hands, she sees a small suitcase that has been prepped open to reveal a Ouija board, Tarot cards and scattered crystals among other items.

Although a fan of the paranormal, she's never managed to fully shake the uneasiness that the sight of a Ouija board brings on. Still, she manages to swallow it down and not show it. God forbid she gives Colby the opportunity to mock her again. She might actually deck him this time, her nerves are that haywire.

"We've worked with a Priestess before but we never got to properly understand how that title is different from a medium." Sam says, balancing the camera's weight on his right shoulder as to give his arm a small break.

Sharon gives a small chuckle at his statement, motioning to the deck of Tarot cards and Ouija board, "Well, I can make a rather accurate estimation of your past and future as well as communicate with spirits. I cannot see them, though. I can also do a protection ritual. From what I understand you put yourselves in a lot of potentially dangerous situations without much care for your safety."

Yeah, well, she isn't far from the mark. And all four members of the group know that, which is why they are quick to agree to the protection ritual.

"Can we also have our cards read?" Colby suddenly inquires, earning him the puzzled looks of his friends, "It'd be interesting to see if the reading aligns with what the last Priestess told us."

Sam takes less than a second to agree, thrilled at the idea of putting the cards - and their readers - to the test. Kat and Y/N, although not nearly as thrilled to have their future read - in their case, for the first time ever - they don't disagree. Instead, they exchange a somewhat encouraging 'why not?' look and press onward, following Sharon and the guys into the ballroom like restaurant of the motel.

A insight and guidance Tarot spread is laid out on one of the tables, each card picked out by the person whose turn it is as they get told their futures one by one with Kat going first - an act to encourage her best friend to follow suit after seeing the positive overview she got. Y/N's is a bit more wishy-washy with no certainty of anything bad happening in her future but still there seemed to be an undertone of weariness to each card she picked. Sam was completely in awe of how identical this reading was to his last one, so much so he didn't even really pay much mind to what the future may hold. And lastly, it is Colby's turn.

His reading goes without a hitch - again, as was the case with Sam's - eerily identical to the one he got back at the Conjuring house. That is until...

"Is it against any rules for me to ask a question on his behalf?" His best friend interferes just as the reading is about to come to a close.

Sam ignores the puzzled arch of Colby's eyebrow and focuses his attention on Sharon who shakes her head, "Not at all. What would you like to know?"

The smile on the blonde's face, although sneaky, has a small tinge of apology as he gives Colby a brief glance before asking the question he was pondering voicing since before the reading even started, "Colby has never had much luck in the love department, not by fault of his own, though." The last part is added after a two second delay during which Colby didn't bother hiding the comical offense he took to Sam's implications. It provoked a genuine laugh from Y/N and Kat who are now operating the camera as a team effort in order to keep the two targets in frame and capture each of their reactions. "So...can we get some insight on that? What can we do to change that?"

Sharon doesn't even attempt to stifle the laugh Sam's words elicit. It's far from the first time she's been asked this question in her career but the phrasing of this one specifically is quite amusing. Luckily, she can help.

"I doubt there's much you can do for him." She says, causing Sam's face to comically fall into a faux frown, causing Colby and the girls to cackle. Afterwards, her attention is turned to her reading subject, "However, I can give you a brief love spread reading if you'd be open to it."

Being open to it Colby is most definitely not, especially on such a sore topic. But he'd never allow himself to let his audience down like that. Just like Y/N, there are times he's too aware of the camera for his own good. Sure, this part can be edited out later but that would alter the authenticity of the entire experience. So, with a suppressed sigh he decides 'what the hell' and agrees to withstand a love reading.

He picks his cards and flips them over in the order Sharon instructs him, watching intently as the furrow of her brows deepens as she observes the combination of three cards on the table. "Huh..." She tilts her head to the side, confused.

Her reaction is far from what Colby expected or wanted to hear. In his head he's already made a plan of adopting a dozen cats and buying a house in the woods when Sharon finally speaks up again. "Am I right in assuming that you're single at this moment in time?"

Although taken aback by the question, Colby still nods, "Yes. Have been for the past couple of years, actually." He's so ready to get revenge on Sam as soon as fucking possible for putting him in this position even though he knows he's coming from a place of love and care.

Sharon chuckles, her eyebrows lifting impossibly high, "If I may be brutally honest with you - it seems like it's your fault." Seeing Colby's face morph in horror, she hurries to offer an explanation, "You see, what the cards are telling me is that you've already met 'the one' and..." she taps the middle card which just happened to be The Lovers, "...there's nothing standing in the way of you two being together. Had you not confirmed that you're single, I would've thought you two are already in a relationship."

Sam and Kat are busy exchanging a mixed set of looks - his rather surprised and hers bordering onto grateful. They both know why he brought up the question and Kat is extremely thankful that he's still supporting her matchmaking agenda. And good thing they were busy with their telepathic communication, otherwise they would've seen the not-at-all subtle moment of vulnerability between their friends.

A moment of weakness. A moment in which they both seemed to have lost control of their motor skills and their sense of rationality. The revelation sent Colby's head snapping directly in Y/N's direction, his eyes meeting hers and mirroring the terror they saw there. Her body is rigid much like his own. Their faces are painted with a look of horror no paranormal entity has ever managed to provoke from them. It's a look that is begging for reassurance, asking the silent question 'there's no way, right?'

Had this happened 24 hours ago, it would've been a laughing matter. Now, it's a cause for massive discomfort and uneasiness. Because, no matter how in denial they wanna be, the suspicious 'what if?' lingers at the back of their minds.

24 hours ago he would've been disgusted at the idea. He would've been adamant that if she in fact is the one, he'd rather die alone. Not that he'd ever think it plausible.

But now...

"So, what you're saying is..." Kat breaks the silence, looking between Sharon and a distressed Colby, "He needs to pull his head out of his ass as soon as possible?"

The Priestess nods, "Pretty much. Both him and his potential partner need to give each other a shot. Preferably soon. By the sound of it, it's already been too long."

If Colby didn't know any better, he'd be offended. Or rather, he would find it in himself to be offended if he wasn't still prowling through his brain to find a branch to grasp onto in this emotional flood. A twinge of rationality to comfort him, reassure him he's being ridiculous. That this is ridiculous.

Yet a part of him, a self-sadistic - or, well, masochistic - part of him hopes it may be true.

Y/N on the other hand wants to puke and for the first time today it has nothing to do with last night's tequila. She's horrified by the way her heart fluttered the moment their eyes met. She wishes she could grab ahold of her heart and physically slow it down because she's a few beats short of a heart attack right now.

When Kat's hand lands on her arm, her soul nearly evaporates from her body. "Shit, girl, sorry. Didn't mean to freak you out." Her best friend apologizes, squeezing Y/N's hand in an attempt to calm her down, "You ok?"

Nodding rapidly, the girl hurries to reassure her very worried friend, "Yeah I just spaced out, no worries."

Although clearly unconvinced, Kat doesn't press on. She's always approached Y/N like a wounded wild animal, worried she might shut herself away if she feels like she's being put under pressure. Or worse, she'd hate to lose her friendship if she were to bring up her theory of whatever might be going on between her and Colby. She can only imagine how badly she'd flip out if she were to find out.

So, Sam and Kat alike have long decided to never let either Y/N or Colby find out their agenda.

"If you say so...", with a small nod Kat motions to the bag on the floor as she balances the one she's holding, "Could you grab that? We're gonna leave them at the front desk before we go to the diner."

The last thing Y/N's unruly stomach wants right now is food but there's no way in hell she's gonna say anything and garner further suspicion from her friends. So, she nods in agreement, watching Kat as she follows Sam out in the hall before turning to pick up the appointed bag.

And suddenly her hand's been burned.

Both her and Colby jump back when the unexpected skin-to-skin contact brought on the feeling of an acid burn.

He wants to apologize, though there is nothing to really apologize for. It's such a miniscule and insignificant moment for an onlooker that they'd be perceived as utterly ridiculous for reacting so dramatically. Luckily for that onlooker mind reading isn't a thing, otherwise they'd see some ungodly images flashing through the pair's heads.

God forbid they heard me calling them a pair. They'd have me beheaded.

"Let me." He says, his voice rougher than he'd intended. He flinches at the sound of it and cringes even more when she does in fact let him take the bag, stepping away from the spot she'd crouched to collect it from the floor.

And again he finds himself in the agonizing position of watching her go without having a morsel of a chance to stop her. Truly, there's nothing he could say even if he were to stop her. They've always had a preference for few words - rather hostile ones, at that. So, what's there to say? They said plenty but not via words just last night.

If only they could resume that conversation.

"Hey!" Y/N calls out to Kat, picking up the pace of her steps so she can catch up to her.

Disentangling her arm from Sam's, she turns to her best friend, "What's up?"

On instinct, Y/N links their arms together in silent gratitude for, well, everything. Years of friendship. Years of Kat putting up with all seasons of her attitude. "I never got to say thank you for not letting me home with that guy. And I'm sorry if I was being bitchy about it. I know you did it for my own good."

It's far from the first time Kat has had to pull such a maneuver to keep Y/N safe. Hell, she dragged her out of this guy's car once. No feat is too big when it comes to keeping each other safe, and that goes for both sides. Although the rescue missions have been pretty one sided, seeing as how one has far less self preservation. I'll let you have a guess who that is.

The expected reassurance never comes, beckoning Y/N's gaze to Kat's face where she finds a pretty confused expression. "What guy?"

Mortification seeps into Y/N's bloodstream with a searing heat creeping up the back of her neck. "'What guy' as in you don't remember or 'what guy' as in there were several?" She doesn't really wanna hear the answer, rather she sink into the floor, but she has to know. Ignorance is bliss and all that but it's also the coward's weapon. And she ain't no coward.

"No, no. I mean, yeah, there were several..." Kat is very obviously and very unsuccessfully trying to soften the blow of the answer's delivery, "But you only danced with them. There was this one you were adamant on leaving with but thankfully Colby stopped you."

No amount of cushioning would've prevented that sentence from hitting her like a ton of bricks.

Kat mistakes her silence for anger so she hurries to add on to her previous statement, "He did the right thing, though! Please don't be mad at him."

Oh, I'm mad at him. But not for the reasons you might think...

Y/N snaps out of her thoughts with a shake of her head, "No, no, I'm not mad at him. In fact, I should probably thank him."

To say Kat is taken aback by these unbelievable words would be an understatement, "Ok, let's not got that far. I don't know what natural disaster may occur if you do that."

Oh, they've gone a lot further than Kat can ever imagine.

The tension of uncertainty climbs in the car with them, leaving a lot to be speculated and anxiously awaited. One thing is concretely certain, however - this is gonna be another long fucking night.

* * * * *

Y/N's ears are perked up with expectation. Not so much in search of a knock or creak that could be considered as loose evidence but in hopes of hearing footsteps. She hates it, how each sound puts her on edge for all the wrong reasons.

She's not waiting on any paranormal entity to make itself known. She's waiting for a rerun of last night. Hoping for it is a better way to put it. Hoping on him and hating on herself.

Ten minutes, that is the window of time they decided on for the solo investigation portion of the night and it's going by too quickly for her liking. Typically the minutes would stretch on in endless anxiety whenever she found herself alone in these supposedly haunted places. And yet tonight, she wishes she could buy a couple extra minutes. Or maybe buy herself a new brain if she were to listen to the more hostile part of herself. The part of her that is so against what went down that it's fucking exhausting.

But the footsteps never come. Not because the other party doesn't want to make the venture just down the hall but because he's convinced she'd forever hate him if he were to give into his temptation.

He's no stranger to hate and anger from her. What he's afraid of is avoidance. Indifference.

So, he stays put. Or tries to.

Out of the ten minutes he was left alone in room 11B, Colby only remained seated for a total of ten seconds. He's been pacing the room like a caged animal, his hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob several times. It felt like fighting with his second nature trying to pry himself free from the urge.

But fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on the perspective - he prevailed. Ten minutes in isolation, almost completely forgetting the quest at hand.

The solo investigations come to an end with a ping from everyone's phones, letting them know the time is up. The sound sends shockwaves down Y/N's spine as she comes to terms with the fact that she's been stood up by both the spirits and living.

Upon exiting the room, she finds herself to be faced with another of the Universe's cruel jokes in timing. She'd much rather have just run into a shadow figure if she's being honest. But a shadow figure he is most definitely not. Not with such piercing blue eyes, anyway.

For a brief second they are left in silence, just staring each other down. But it'd be very unlike them to let the quiet linger for any longer. So, Y/N takes it upon herself to break it, "Glad to see you didn't pussy out and make a run for it this time."

Very on-brand for a Colby-Y/N interaction. Or it would be if he were to retort with the same sort of hostility. He does, but not verbally. Instead, in two long strides, he finds himself in her personal space, giving her no room to dodge him. Not that she would, she talks a big game and stands behind it. Even now, trapped between his body and the wall with only mere inches separating them, there's not even a twinge of hesitation in her stance or gaze.

"What, were you waiting for me or something?" He too is no stranger to pulling on her strings but he'd usually do it from an arm's length away. Not a centimeter away from her face.

The retort she's ready to spit at him dies in her throat when she feels his fingers ghost over her thigh, giving an almost accidental tug on the chain dangling from the belt loops of her shorts.

As soon as the contact was established it has dissipated with Colby taking a step back, "Forgot to give it back."

His words throw her for a momentary lop before her hand comes to clasp the small bump in her pocket. Reaching in, she retrieves the lighter he so smoothly swiped from her yesterday. By the time her brain has processed what just happened, he's already disappeared down the hall, leaving her leaning against the wall on unsteady knees and with a newfound craving to light a cigarette.

"Fuck you, Brock..." she mutters under her breath, darting down the hall in search of the nearest exit so she can give into the urge to drown the breath they briefly shared in nicotine.

* * * * *

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Hair tousled, lipstick smeared, heels in hand - that's Y/N's current state. The worst of it, in her opinion, is that she's sober. The two drinks she downed about three hours ago evaporated from her system long before they could affect her perception of time and space. Throughout the whole night she was all too aware of the pair of eyes that remained trained on her the whole night. And she was even more aware of the sudden disappearance of the heat on the back of her neck when Colby inexplicably disappeared from her viewpoint. From the club entirely.

Curiosity scratched at her brain but she pushed it down, restraining the need to ask Sam and Kat where he'd gone. Why he'd left. Who he'd left with. To be fair, it would've been pretty hard to get answers out of either of them, seeing as how they were too busy making out on the dancefloor.

Or at least that's the last she saw of them before they too disappeared from her immediate vicinity. After a solid fifteen minute scavenger hunt for her friends she called it a night and made her way back to the hotel, discarding her heels halfway along her journey.

The texts she sent Kat remain unanswered but as she ventures down the hall to their shared room she gets the answer to at least one of her questions - Colby's whereabouts.

Whereabouts that place him seated on the carpeted hotel hallway floor, back against the door to her and Kat's shared room. His head is tilted back, his eyes peacefully shut. Or at least they were until her question startled him back into weariness.

"Sam and Kat banished me from the room. Can I crash with you?" He makes no attempt on getting up despite appearing sober himself. He's just exhausted, mentally more so than physically.

She's tempted to be petty. In fact she can feel horns poking through at the top of her head at just the thought of leaving him without a place to stay for the night. It's a minor revenge for seven years of animosity and a chaotic twenty four hours of anxiety and overthinking. But she can simultaneously feel a vastly different sensation heating her body at the thought of having to share a room with him for the night.

Does she believe that ridiculous crap about being the bigger person? Hell no. Is that enough to just leave him out in the hall? Well....

"Only if you keep your hands to yourself." She says, twirling the keycard to the door between her fingers like a taunt.

Little does she know the real taunt for him at the moment is her two inches too short dress. Listen, he's a gentleman, but if she were to take one more step toward him, it would take an ungodly amount of self control to look away.

Instead of letting those unorthodox thoughts render him speechless as they wrack his body, he finds it in himself to sass her right back, "Only if you follow your own rule."

She offers him no verbal reply. All he gets in response is a scoff and eye-roll before she approaches him, offering him a hand to help him get up to his feet.

He's a wise man - he takes something when he's offered it. But he's also insightful, more so than he lets on. And that allows him to give others what they haven't even come to terms with wanting. Which is why he doesn't let go of her hand once he stands up. Instead, he rounds it behind her back, gently locking it in place as his lips come crashing down onto hers.

Despite the rule she put in place, she's all too eager to meet him halfway, returning the same burning passion he's showing her. There's not a fiber of her being that isn't currently on fire, not a single thought that's rational, not a single hesitation that is being heard.

She's overdosing on him and enjoying every second of it.

Colby's free hand tangles in her hair while the other steals the keycard from her secured hand, swipes it and pushes the door open, guiding them blindly into the pitch black room.

They don't need a light anyway. The way their hands roam each other's bodies with such familiarity, it feels like a regular occurrence. Like they give into their hidden desires frequently enough to know the other's body by heart, play it like an instrument. Each touch, each kiss, each softly spoken word feels so...right. Not at all out of place, not at all unusal.

It's been seven years coming, and the waves are finally crashing down over them.

Only the moonlight lazily seeping in through the windows bares witness to this culmination of animosity, anger, hostility - the result of which is awfully gentle. Well, gentle might not be the best term if you were to factor in his hand around her throat and her nails scratching down his back.

Said hand of his loosens its already leisurely hold, travelling up to her jaw then her cheek where it cups her face in a - dare I say - loving gesture.

It stirs up something too warm and fuzzy for Y/N's rough nature. Yet she still embraces it, not without a snide comment though: "Don't get sentimental on me now, Brock."

She's quick to bite back her words and replace them with a moan as he marks her stomach with a not at all modest hickey, "Don't worry, I'll still hate you in the morning."

She laughs. Genuinely laughs. This night is full of surprises, is it not. "You better."

They greet the dawn on the balcony, her back pressed to his chest, his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. And as if we didn't already count plenty of milestones... In seven long years, they'd never smoked together. That changes now.

"You still hate me?" Colby dares to ask through an exhale of smoke. I believe the answer is pretty obvious though, considering she hasn't tried to headbutt him the whole time his chin has been resting on top of her head.

Although he hasn't heard it much, at least not in response to him, her laugh has officially become his favorite sound in the world. "Of course I do."

"Good."

"You?"

"I've never hated you more." He accentuates his response by capturing her lips with his own in a sweet kiss.

* * * * *

"Hey, Kat." Colby speaks up softly, careful not to disturb the still drowsy Kat that's so ready to fall asleep the very second her butt hits the airplane seat.

"Hmm?" She offers in response. It's too early for either her or Sam to form words and Colby respects that.

"Mind switching seats with me?"

Now that wakes her up, the force of the statement's meaning not at all corresponding with the softness of his tone.

"You think you'll be, um, safe? Sitting next to Y/N and all that?" Although inwardly buzzing with excitement at the potential of her years long labor finally baring fruits, she needs to make sure there will be no murders on this flight.

What Kat doesn't catch is the smirk Colby sends Y/N's way over her shoulder. A smirk she returns with the same level of mischief.

"I think I'll manage."

Tagging: @jessy-shine @benbarnesprettygurl @mushycore @smuttiest-smuttt @honey-bees-13 @richardsamboramylove55

[ironstrange1991]

Careful What You Wish For

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The reader and Stephen are students at Kamar Taj and when she needs his help with her exams, Stephen makes her an indecent offer.

Word Count: 6,5k

Warnings: SMUT: Dubcon, hate sex (at least in the beggining), handjob, oral sex with male receiving, forced (?) deep throat, umprotected p n v, lost of virginity, mentions of pain and blood, forced (?) creampie.

A/N: It took me a while to finish this fic, but I'm very happy with the result. Hope you like it.

You had been a student at Kamar Taj for no more than a few months when the new guy arrived. You were in the hall and even served him tea at the time, then you left letting the Ancient One and Master Mordo speak to him. However, of course you were peeking behind the curtains listening to the entire conversation. You saw the disrespectful and absurd way in which he addressed the Ancient One and you also saw how she, with all her power and somewhat sadistic humor, put him in his place.

You spent that day studying the old books that Wong had recommended for you and as you did so you heard the incessant knocking on the door and the shouts of "Let me in" or "I have nowhere to go." The situation was funny at first because like the Ancient One, you also had a certain sadistic side, but after hours of that incessant whining you started to feel sorry for the man. He was kinda cute.

When he was allowed to join you and become a student of the mystic arts you decided that you would not make his life easy. Whenever you could, you teased him for being the new guy, for being the guy whose hands could barely conjure mere sparks. During training in the courtyard, The Ancient One always had the two of you train together and you didn't take it easy on him. You might be small, but you were agile. He on the other hand was tall, had a well defined body, not too thin, very muscular, but was extremely slow. Apparently all the years of being an arrogant rich guy had made him soft and you liked seeing him lying on the floor whenever you got the chance.

"Y/n, no messing around. Grab your relics and get into fighting stance." Master Mordo instructed in one of the training afternoons and you chose one of the relics, but when the new guy went to get his, you slapped his hand making him look at you with a mixture of surprise and irritation. He was very handsome when he was angry, his blue eyes darkening with the fury he tried to contain. Wounded pride showing in every line of his furrowed brow.

"You don't deserve a relic yet, old man."

He ran his tongue across the corner of his cheek, clearly annoyed, but decided to play along. "I already told you my name is Stephen Strange."

You shrugged, getting into a fighting stance. "And I already said I don't care. Now be less miserable and conjure a weapon, so I'll feel less bad when I hit you."

He chuckled nervously, making a valiant effort to conjure something that could barely be described as a weapon, but it would have to do because you quickly went in for a blow that he reasonably defended himself from.

You smiled mischievously "You're getting better. I've always believed it's possible to learn through pain."

He clearly didn't like your comment, because he struck a blow at you that you barely have time to defend yourself by creating a shield.

"You don't know anything about my pain." He spat out the words.

Apparently you had hit a nerve. Excellent.

Your relationship with Strange didn't changed much beyond that for a long time, but you liked to think that somehow you were growing inside him, because he was always close even when you didn't necessarily need to be together. Like in the library.

It was as if he always knew the exact time you were in the library and would go there and steal books that were clearly not allowed for someone of his level. Not even at your level.

"You're going to end up with your head in a bucket over this." You said one of those nights while reading under the light of a single candle at the farthest desk in the library.

"Only if you tell on me." He responded, bringing the book under his arm and coming towards you. He threw the heavy book on the table and smiled arrogantly at you. When you looked at the book your eyes widened in complete amazement.

"This book belongs to the Ancient One's collection, are you crazy?"

He pulled out a chair and sat at the desk with you. "Wong said no knowledge is prohibited at Kamar Taj."

You rolled your eyes "Yes, I know that speech, it was exactly that that led Kaecilius to perdition."

Strange stared at you and then at the book. "So this is the book that was stolen."

"If it's in your hand, it's obvious that it wasn't stolen. Only a spell was removed from it. An evil spell that neither you nor I have the slightest idea of ​​what it does."

But it was useless, every word of warning seemed to instigate the man even more. You had been around Strange long enough to know that he was hard-headed and when he put something in his head no one could take it away.

You closed the book you were reading and levitated it to the shelf by moving little more than your fingertips.

"Show off." He scolded as he flipped through the forbidden book.

"If you allow me, I will leave before you do something that’ll get us killed, or worse, expelled."

With that he smiled widely, that must have been the first time you saw him smiling, at least for you.

"Did you just quote Harry Potter? How old are you, twelve?"

You shrugged. "I'm 21 in two weeks, I'll take a gift." You said walking down the hall.

As days went by, it became increasingly clear to you that all that provocation had a much deeper meaning than you wanted to admit. You've never been with a man, in fact you've never even been interested in a man. Your life has always been studying and after you were orphaned after a car accident that killed your parents and almost killed you, you felt lost in the world and found out about Kamar Taj and dedicated yourself one hundred percent to it. That's what you always do, you find a source of interest, become completely obsessed and devote yourself to it until you learn everything you can from it and then move on to another obsession. At that point you were already recognizing the pattern and wondering how far you could go with that obsession with Strange when teasing or pestering him during training seemed to not be enough anymore.

You started teasing him in other ways, wearing robes that were tighter than necessary, shorts and tank tops that were smaller and shorter than allowed, all so he could get a good look at what he was missing. That is, of course, if he had any interest in you in the same way that you had in him. To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Provoking him was easy, but seducing wasn't exactly an area you had mastered.

The day before your birthday you were in the kitchen stealing what was left of your cake frosting when Strange caught you in the act. You were only wearing skimpy pajama shorts and a top that barely covered your breasts and bent over as you were, half of your body inside the fridge, you could imagine the image Stephen had of your ass.

"You should be embarrassed." His baritone voice came from behind you and in shock you hit your head on the top of the fridge which made him laugh. That laugh was something new and the way it made your stomach flutter was new too.

You took the pot out of the fridge, but left the door open, illuminating the dark kitchen with a beam of yellow light.

"It's my cake, my birthday, I have the right." You responded by sticking your index finger into the bowl and scooping out a little more of the icing and sticking it in your mouth teasingly taking it out with a loud pop.

You could see him swallowing thickly, his eyes getting darker with what you didn't quite know what it was.

"I'm referring to walking around the Kamar Taj dressed like that."

You shrugged "It's hot in Kathmandu." You made sure to smile mischievously at him. "After all, what are you doing walking around the Kamar Taj at this hour, Strange?" You questioned as if you had any right to it.

He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I can't sleep. My hands are hurting more than usual."

You looked at him for a second, still leaning against the sink with the glass bowl in your hand, trying to think of what to say to him, but ended up opting for the easiest answer.

"You don't expect me to take pity on you and offer to massage your hands or something, right?" You tried to sound sarcastic, but since there was some truth in your suggestion, your voice sounded softer than you would have liked.

"I don't want pity, but a massage would be nice."

“Fuck off” You replied, turning around to put the bowl in the sink and wash your hands, but mostly to hide how red your cheeks had gotten.

He sighed, getting up and mumbling a good night and leaving the kitchen and you stood there wondering if he was really serious or not. In any case, that was absurd, you both didn't have that kind of intimacy.

You ended up as usual in the library, finishing the last chapters of the book that you needed to finish for the end of the year exams. When you joined Kamar Taj, you didn't realize how much theory you would have to learn, you always thought it would be more practice than books and exams, but things weren't exactly as you imagined and you weren't as good at theory as you were in practice. Your memory wasn't like Strange's. The bastard could memorize an entire book in that deranged brain of his, you could barely memorize your own notes. Clearly there was a bargaining chip there, you thought ironically. I massage his hands and he help me study.

You chuckled to yourself thinking how absurd the idea was, but as you read the endless pages of the book that confused you more than clarified the subject, the more tempted you became to actually make the offer to Strange. The best you could get for an answer was no, right?

Finally, you gave up on your studies and put the books back on the shelves and left the library towards the dorms, you were still deciding between going straight to your dorm or knocking on Strange's door when you heard a sound coming from his room. You stopped in front of the door, your hand on the doorknob waiting and then you heard it again, a groan. He must have really been in a lot of pain to be groaning like that. You even felt bad about the way you spoke to him in the kitchen earlier.

You gave up knocking and simply turned the handle and to your surprise the door opened. It was dark inside, but the little light coming from the window made it clear as day what he was actually doing or trying to do and before he noticed your presence another groan escaped his lips followed by a curse "Damn hands. "

You swallowed heavily and closed the door behind you and only then did he notice your presence.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked completely defensively, adjusting himself in the small chair at the desk that could barely contain his entire size in it. At the same time he removed his hand from inside his boxers, but there was an erection there so obvious that the white fabric did little to hide.

"I came to make you an offer, but since you're busy I can come back another time." You answered turning around to leave.

He groaned and in that sound you could feel a little frustration, a little irritation and also some curiosity. “Wait.”

He snapped his fingers and some light bulbs came on. "If you tell anyone what you saw here, I swear I'll kill you." He threatened.

You smirked, "Threatening to kill me isn't the best thing you can do to keep my mouth shut. It's actually the worst thing, since we both know you're no match for me in combat."

He raised an eyebrow challenging you. "I've evolved a lot since I got here, Y/n, don't underestimate me."

You shrugged. "I'm not here to fight, Strange. I came to ask for help with my studies. You know my exams are coming up and I'm not as good in theory as I am in practice. If I do poorly in the exams, The Ancient One won't let me participate in the advanced spell training and I'm really excited to get started...”

"Let me get this straight. You're asking for my help? Is that right?"

You walked over to him and sat on the bed, crossing your arms dramatically. "Unfortunately it's my only option."

He shifted again in his chair and you couldn't help but notice that thing between his legs.

 "So... what do you say?"

"I could help you. The question is whether I want to or not. Let's think about it for a minute. Since I got here you have dedicated yourself to make my life really hard. You are an insufferable brat, you are rude... "

"Okay, I understand. Where are you going with this? Are you going to help me or not?"

Strange smiled mischievously as if suddenly some brilliant idea had crossed his mind. "It will depend on what you’ll give me in return."

Something about that smile made the heat rise to your cheeks again and you swallowed thickly.

"You mentioned early in the kitchen that your hands were hurting. I thought… maybe you wanted a massage or something." Your voice became lower and lower and by the end of the sentence it was almost a whisper.

He hummed, "Something like that." He replied and then sighed heavily.

"Do you know what the big problem with my hands is? I can't jerk off"

You looked at him, completely shocked that he was saying that to you, but you supposed that after teasing him for all that time, he didn't exactly have much respect for you, especially because he must have already noticed that you maintained a certain interest in him.

"And tonight, after you were showing off that ass of yours for me in the kitchen I really needed to jerk off."

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

"You tease me and tease me, but you don't offer anything in return. You keep wearing these indecent clothes and I know it's not because of the heat, but because you want me to look at you. You call me an old man, but I know you love how old I am. So spare me that innocent face of yours because I know you're not innocent."

Actually, you were, but you didn't tell him that. You had never been with a man. Some heated kisses, yes, some touching and teasing, but nothing more than that. The problem was that you played your role too well.

"Are you going to help me or not?" You mumbled.

"Come here." He asked and you hesitated for a moment, but then you gave in and slowly walked towards him, stopping in front of him, waiting for what he would say next.

"I don't want a massage. I need your hands to jerk off. In other words, I want a handjob. A really good handjob and depending on how good it is I might be good and help you pass those exams."

You chewed on your lip. There was a part of you that liked the idea of ​​being intimate with him like that, but another much more conscious part knew how wrong it was. You weren't comfortable with that situation.

"And how exactly is a really good handjob? I need to know my chances here if I'm going to do this."

He smirked. "Let me see your hands. Palms up."

You obeyed.

"They're small, which means you'll have to use both at the same time because, as you can see..." He brought his hands to the sides of his boxers and in a quick movement they were on his knee, freeing his huge dick. "It's very big."

"You're an arrogant idiot, you know that?" You mumbled, unable to hold your tongue in your mouth.

He grabbed one of your hands and brought it to his cock and instinctively you wrapped it around him and it felt so warm and so hard, you didn't imagine it was that hard.

"Come on, you know what to do!" He said, closing his eyes and sighing heavily.

You knelt down to his height and moved your hand up and down, but clearly something was wrong. "Shouldn't it be wet?" You asked innocently, to which he let out a small chuckle.

"Yeah, I don't have lube. You'll need to use your own spit."

You looked at him in surprise, but he clearly understood your reaction as disgust.

He sighed dramatically, held his own cock by the base and spat on it and then moved his trembling hand spreading the saliva over the entire length. "There. It's wet now."

You grabbed him, determined to end it once and for all. From what you knew, he hadn't had sex for a long time and if you did it right he wouldn't last long.

You started to pump him up and down quickly, but contrary to your plans, he held your hand "Slow down, I want to enjoy myself for a bit."

You sighed doing what he wanted, you used both hands to stroke him slowly making sure to rotate your hands on the way down and making sure to touch his head on the way up. It was your first time doing that, but you weren't a saint, you had already watched porn and remembered some things and by the way he started to squirm, barely able to stay still in the chair, you could tell you were doing something right.

He started to moan too, at first low and then louder and soon some words began to escape his lips as if he was unable to contain them.

"Fuck Y/n, you really know what you're doing, don't you? Oh I missed this, it's been so long!"

You couldn't hide from yourself that his words seemed to move you, it was almost as if you could feel a warmth in your chest, a surge of pride at being praised by him and more than that, you felt your panties getting wet.

There was no point trying to hide that you were enjoying this. Deep down you always imagined yourself in some kind of erotic scenario with Strange. Alone in your small room, you found yourself thinking about him and he was right, you teased him to try to get some reaction from him. You just never imagined things would happen this way, but you were too involved in it to care.

You watched in delight as how much of that sticky liquid came out of his tip the more you stimulated him, and you also realized that you liked the noises that your hands jerking him made, not to mention his moans that got louder and louder. The next thing you knew, you were squeezing your thighs together and he only didn't notice because he had leaned his head back and kept his eyes closed, but when an involuntary moan escaped your lips he looked at you intently with a grin in his lips.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? You dirty little brat!"

You couldn't maintain eye contact with him, so you kept your eyes on his cock, noticing every vein, every detail of that cock that was the first one you had the chance to see up close.

You spat on his cock and continued your work without responding to his provocation, but he wasn't willing to let it go.

"Look at me."

You did what he asked somewhat reluctantly.

"I want your mouth, sweetheart."

You looked at him in surprise, not because of what he asked, but because of the way he referred to you and especially because of how it made you feel.

"I... I don't know how to do it." You replied and he smirked.

"I find that hard to believe."

You looked away feeling your face even hotter. Was it really possible that you had played your role so well that you managed to make the man you were interested in believe you were a whore? You were not. You weren't even close to that, but now it was too late to try to change his opinion about you.

"Tell me how you like it." You asked, disguising your inexperience.

"Deep in the throat. That's how I like it. But I'll take what you give me. Just use this mouth of yours for something more productive than talking shit."

You were slightly offended and bothered by the way he was treating you. Despite everything, in your fantasies he was always kind, but you tried not to let that show and opened your mouth as much as you could and he stuck his head in and instinctively reached his hand up to your head and grabbed a handful of your hair. "Use your tongue, swirl it in the head."

You did exactly as he asked and felt his hold on your hair tighten. He started to push your head down, forcing you to take him deeper and deeper until you gagged and tears ran down your face.

"That's how I like it." He took his cock out of your mouth and held your chin making you look at him. "There's nothing like a good cock to tame a brat, right sweetheart?"

You swallowed the saliva you had gathered in your mouth and nodded obediently.

"You can take a little more, can't you?"

You nodded.

"Good girl. Open your mouth really wide, I'm going to go deeper this time, okay?"

You just nodded again, apparently that was all you could do, obey his commands even if you didn't agree with them. You felt as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth, entering your throat until you could no longer breathe. Automatically you grabbed his thighs and started pushing to try to get away from him, but he didn't let you go.

"It's okay. Just breathe through your nose" He cooed. You had never heard that tone of voice from him, at least not when he was talking to you, but a part of you liked it.

You did as he ordered, but the sensation was no less uncomfortable when you felt him going down your throat. Your gag reflex was horrible and soon you were crying profusely as streams of saliva ran down your mouth as he continued thrusting against your throat.

"Look at you, you're crying on my dick, sweetheart. Do you have any idea how beautiful this is?"

You pushed his thigh again and tried to lift your head and this time he allowed it.

He continued holding your hair though and wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"Not such a bully now, are you?"

You were feeling overwhelmed, your voice refused to come out and there was a secret part inside you that was loving the feeling of being used, even when you knew deep down that it was wrong.

He stood up and pulled you up too. "Let's make a deal. I'll touch you now and if you're dry I'll let you finish with the handjob and we'll stop here..."

You stared at him, fully aware of the mess that was between your legs.

He smirked, pleased with your reaction and continued explaining "...but if you're wet... Oh sweetheart, if you're wet, I'll fucking ruin you."

When his hand slipped into your shorts and panties your legs were shaking and could barely support you standing. You knew you should tell him the truth, that you should stop it while there was still time, but you couldn't. You were paralyzed. Physically your body was having positive reactions, you were soaking wet between your legs, you were ready to take him. But mentally you were a mess. This wasn't what you imagined for your first time. It wasn't how it should be.

"Oh I knew it! I could smell it on you. Your arousal... such a sweet smell."

You placed your hand over his hand "Strange... I don't know..."

"Shhh, it's okay.  I think you can call me Stephen now."

He moved his middle finger through your folds and circled your clit making your hips move involuntarily against his hand. He brought his face closer to yours and for a minute you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead he whispered in your ear. "You always wanted this, right? All the teasing was because you wanted me. I bet you've already touch yourself thinking about me, haven't you?"

You didn't respond, but when he took two fingers inside you, you winced feeling a sting deep inside. He didn't seem to notice.

"Tell me." He insisted.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I always wanted you." You whined.

He hummed "I'm here now. I'm going to give you what you've always wanted."

With that he bent you over the desk and pulled your shorts and panties down to your knees and you could hear him spitting into his hand.

"Stephen...w-wait..."

He spread his saliva at your entrance and you clung as best you could to the edges of the small wooden desk bracing yourself for what was to come.

He didn't say anything, he just buried himself inside of you with a strong, firm thrust and it was done. All the fantasies, all the expectations around it disappeared in a second, giving way to pain, a tearing sting that brought tears to your eyes, but you didn't make a sound.

He groaned in pleasure, but in confusion too and then stopped altogether. When he spoke again his voice sounded low and slightly nervous.

"Were you a fucking virgin? Really?"

You let out the breath you were holding in small puffs, "I t-tried to tell you."

He pulled out and turned you around to face him. "You didn't tell me shit. How was I supposed to know?!"

You wiped the tears from your eyes "It's no big deal okay? I should have resolved this a long time ago, I just never found..." You bit your tongue before you said too much. You had already given him too much power over you that night.

Stephen ran a hand nervously through his mouth. "We'd better stop this here." He stated, but you held his hand.

"Stephen... it's no big deal. I want this. Just... do it."

He held your face between his huge, shaking hands and stared into your eyes and you could see all the certainty in him slipping away but you had to keep going. If you stopped now it would be too humiliating.

"Stephen, please." You whispered.

 "You stupid little brat!" Stephen said with a heavy sigh and then kissed you. An angry and desperate kiss. A clash of lips, tongues and teeth mixed with the hums that escaped your throats.

In one quick movement he picked you up, bride style, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

"What are you doing?"

He walked over to his bed and laid you carefully on the pillows.

"If we're going to do this, sweetheart, let's do it right."

You watched as he got rid of his tee and found yourself analyzing every inch of his body. He was so beautiful, his defined chest and abdomen, his strong arms, his hands... you lost count of how many times you stared at his hands while your mind conjured up the dirtiest scenarios possible.

"Like what you see?" He asked arrogantly and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, it was stronger than you. "If I didn't like it I wouldn't be here."

"I thought you were here to offer me a deal." He smirked grabbing your shorts and panties that were still tangled around your knees and pulling them off. He threw them on the floor, staring at you with a damn arrogant smile on his lips. "Give up being a brat, this behavior doesn't suit virgins."

You felt the heat returning to your cheeks, but you didn't have time to think of a response because he climbed onto the bed and came on top of you, your legs parted so he could settle between them and before you could understand what he was doing, his lips were on your belly as he lifted the tank top you were wearing and continued his assault on your skin. He kissed and bit you while lifting your top exposing your breasts. He caught your nipple in his mouth, sucking it with newfound passion. A low moan escaped your lips while he did it and you moved your hips up involuntarily. He hummed pleased with your response.

"Stephen...please."

He moved his lips up to your neck, sucking a bruise on your sensitive skin. The touch of his goatee making your entire body shiver. He continued moving his mouth up, nibbling on your earlobe, breathing heavily into your ear on purpose while grinding his hard dick against your uncovered pussy.

"Tell me what you want." He whispered.

But instead of answering him, you surrendered to your fear and asked. "Will it hurt more?"

He cupped your face. "The worst part is over, but I'll take it slow now, I promise."

You shook your head. "No. Just do whatever you have to do until you make me feel good."

He grabbed your chin with more force than you would expect and used his other hand to direct his cock to your entrance and kissed you as he entered you again, going all the way in. You felt the same sting deep in your belly, but it hurt less this time, however the discomfort of having him inside you was something you still needed to get used to. He was big and even though he wasn’t moving you could feel his dick pulsing inside you. It was an strange sensation.

"Now move with me." He asked, grabbing your thigh and wrapping your leg around his waist and with that going even deeper. The movements began, he thrusted slowly but hard and you clung to him, your arms wrapped around his torso, nails biting against the skin of his back as you tried to imitate his movements.

The whole time his lips didn't leave your lips, your chin, your neck. He kissed and bit everywhere he could reach and in between his kisses he let out moans and groans and little praises.

"Oh fuck, this little virgin pussy feels so good... so tight."

You didn't imagined how much of the sexual response was much more physiological than a conscious thing. Before you even knew it your body was moving beneath his with much more desire and the pain and discomfort were replaced by a type of pleasure that was much stronger than the one you got when touching yourself in your room. Each thrust from Stephen triggered a new wave of desire and suddenly what he was giving you didn't seem to be enough, you wanted him all inside you, you wanted him to merge with you until it was no longer possible to know where one ended and the other began.

"Oh my god... it feels so good." You moaned against his lips as you wrapped both legs around his waist, crossing your feet behind his back and trapping him there.

"Yeah? My cock feels good inside you. Isn't that right, sweetie?"

“Uh hum” was all you could respond, but it was enough to inflate Stephen’s ego even more and he groaned loudly in response, gripping the headboard and you couldn’t tell how, but you knew he was close. There was something about the way his eyes were fixed on yours, his breathing became faster, his movements more irregular and in the midst of your bliss you were still able to reason "Stephen... I'm not taking anything."

But your words didn't have the effect you expected, on the contrary, he seemed to become even more determined to finish. His mouth fell open, loud moans and grunts escaping straight from his throat and his thrusts became even harder and faster.

"You're being such a good girl for me. Letting me fuck your pussy raw. I think I'll make it up to you." He rested his forehead on yours and continued. "I'm going to fill you with my cum and you're going to take all of it, won't you?"

You shook your head, but he shushed you.

"Of course you will. I'll leave you leaking my cum for days so you remember what you get for being a good girl. Who knows, maybe you'll come back for more?"

"But... we can't..."

He thrusted even harder against you and your mouth went agape with the feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. You knew you were close, but at the same time it was unlike anything you had ever felt. I was stronger and it seemed to come from much deeper inside you.

"Of course we can. Going to fuck a baby inside you, sweetheart. I know you will look beautiful carrying my baby."

 Your pussy fluttered at those words. How was it possible for you to feel that way? You knew you couldn't let him do that, but you didn't have the strength to fight him when your body was against you. The tension inside your stomach increased and you were so close, all you needed was a small push to fall and surrender to your climax.

"S-Stephen... I'm gonna cum. Oh my... shit."

He kept his pace holding on to the headboard to put more strength into his thrusts while with his other hand he grabbed your chin making you look at him.

"Look at me, Y/n. I want to see it happening. Show me how good my cook is making you feel."

"So good... cock feels so good inside me. I am so lucky." You muttered, barely aware of your own words. "I need to cum. Let me cum... Please..."

He smirked, surely satisfied with your total submission. "You can cum, sweetheart. Do it now."

The tension exploded within you with an intensity you had never experienced before. Unlike every time you came, the sensation was not concentrated in your clit, but came from the inside out, making your entire body shake and tears accumulate at your waterline.

"There you go." Stephen stopped thrusting, watching you with a victorious smile on his lips and then kissed you, a wet kiss, full of lust and desire. Fuck, he was such a good kisser. You felt yourself melting on his lips.

He groaned at your lips and, against your will, you felt him spilling inside you. You knew you should fight it, but in your state of pure bliss you couldn't find the strength within yourself to even try.

He broke the kiss only to lower his lips to your neck where he sucked a bruise too visible for you to hide with your robes. But you knew that was exactly his intention. He wanted to claim you. Showing you that from that moment on you were his and no matter how absurd it might seem, you liked the idea. In fact, that was exactly what you wanted.

He rolled to the side when he was finished, his breathing slowly returning to normal and you lay there feeling the weight of everything that had happened, disbelief and shame finally taking over you. You were suddenly terribly self conscious about lying naked on Strange's bed while his cum dripped from your violated pussy.

In the middle of your internal debate you decided to get up, but you were interrupted by Strange who held your arm and asked with some disbelief. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To my room. I... I think I need a shower."

He cupped your face smirking "Wait here. I'll clean you up."

You waited for him motionless on the bed, your heart beating so hard you could hear it pounding in your ears. You heard the sounds coming from the bathroom, he had left the door open and the room was too small so you couldn't hear him. He peed and wash himself and then came back a few minutes later with a towel in his hands and went back to bed. He cleaned you gently, the towel was wet with warm water and it felt good although the whole situation was extremely embarrassing.

"I'll help you with your studies." He said when he finished what he was doing. "You can wait for me in the library after dinner, but you can't rely on that alone to pass your exams. You need to read. That's what works for me. Hours of reading."

You sat on the bed and stared in disbelief at the small stain of blood on the white sheet. Your face blushed so hard you needed to look the other way.

"I shouldn't have done what I did, Y/n. I had no idea you were a virgin. I'm so sorry. I imagine it wasn't what you expected your first time to be."

You shook your head. "I always wanted it to be you." You confessed, staring at your hands. "You're right. I have feelings for you. That's why I tease you... so you'll notice me."

He sighed, but there was a certain tenderness in his eyes that you had never seen before.

"And do you want this to continue, or it’ll be a one-time thing?" Stephen asked and for a second you could see expectation in his eyes, as if he was waiting a long time for the answer he wanted to hear.

"I don't know, Strange. Do you want it to continue?"

He smirked looking away and then he nodded. "Yes. I want to do it again. And you can keep calling me Stephen. I think it's the most normal thing after I took your virginity."

You felt the heat running down from your cheeks to your neck.

"You look beautiful all red like that." He smiled at you. "I always thought you were beautiful, Y/n."

He came closer and cupped your face and kissed you. Soft and calm for the first time. Your lips moved in sync and somehow this kiss felt even more intimate than the others. When he broke the kiss there was a passionate smile on his lips.

He sighed getting up. "Feel free to use the bathroom. I'll change the sheets so we can sleep."

You did as he suggested, hiding in the bathroom while he disappeared with the evidence of your lost innocence. You took the opportunity to wash your face with clean water and went back to the room. He was already lying down and patted the mattress for you to join him. You picked up his tee that was on the floor and put it on and then lay down on the bed next to him. He pulled you into his arms and you both fell silent.

I need to know that you're okay, Y/n" He said.

You nodded. "I'm fine. Really." You glanced at him for a moment and then smiled. "You can call me sweetheart whenever you want. It's terribly cute." You teased.

He pinched your cheek "As you wish, sweetheart. Now let's try to sleep. We need to wake up early for training tomorrow. Promise you'll be good to me."

Your smirked “I’ll try.”

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[reveryfics]

; ‘frenchie’ peyrol x “failsafe” reader .

; the same reader from your homelander fic, preferably. – stoic ‘wall’ of a person, and, frenchie.

; how they meet / what scenario is entirely up for interpretation. once again, casually overpowered reader.

thanks.

Whiskey Kisses

Serge "Frenchie" Peyrol x Male Reader summary: What you thought would be a standard visit with Kimiko at the local bar, turned into an introduction to her friend.

A/N: I'm not very well versed with Frenchie, so I apologize in advance. Reader is friends with Kimiko, because she is baby.

TW: How you met - Alcohol - Cigarette smoking

The air in the dimly lit bar clung thick and heavy, a cloying blend of stale beer, the saccharine tang of cheap perfume, and an undercurrent of something akin to desperation. The relentless thump-thump-thump of a raucous country anthem vibrated through the worn floorboards, a jarring soundtrack to the already elevated cacophony of drunken shouts and booming laughter. Waitresses, their expressions carefully neutral masks stretched taut over weary features, navigated the dense throng of bodies clustered around the two scarred pool tables dominating the room's center. Each balanced precarious towers of sweating mugs and half-empty shot glasses, their practiced movements a testament to countless hours spent traversing such chaotic terrain.

Around the emerald felt of the pool tables, a different sort of tension coiled beneath the surface din. Small knots of men, their ties loosened to indecent angles and the fronts of their shirts damp with spilled drinks, leaned in close, their gazes laser-focused on the rolling ivory spheres. Fingers jabbed at the air, voices rose and fell in hushed, fervent whispers as bets were laid – crumpled dollar bills exchanged hands with a silent rustle, promises of future, likely forgotten, favors murmured into eager ears. The sharp clack of colliding balls punctuated the music, each strike followed by a collective intake of breath, a guttural groan of disappointment, or a triumphant, unrestrained yell.

One table was nearing its dramatic conclusion. A burly man, a thick handlebar mustache bracketing a face flushed a deep crimson, meticulously lined up a particularly challenging shot, his brow furrowed in a deep V of concentration. Across from him, a younger man, wiry and radiating a cocky self-assurance, leaned casually against his cue stick, a small but growing stack of bills already clutched in his hand. The small crowd surrounding them was a study in rapt anticipation – some with hopeful gazes fixed on the burly contender, others with a predatory gleam in their eyes as they watched the younger player’s confident demeanor. The waitress, expertly maneuvering past a swaying figure clutching a half-empty pitcher of beer, paused for a fleeting moment, her gaze flicking between the two players before she continued her circuit, another round of liquid courage to deliver to the thirsty bettors. The air itself seemed to crackle with the unspoken stakes, the small fortunes hanging in the balance of that single white ball’s trajectory.

You stood beside the other pool table, the rough grit of chalk clinging to your fingertips as you meticulously coated the tip of your cue, waiting for the current game to conclude and the table to be freed. A waitress, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, placed your drink – a tumbler of amber liquid – on the small table beside you, her eyes lingering on yours for a beat longer than strictly professional. You offered a curt, almost gruff, “Thanks,” your voice low and even, before she moved on to her next delivery.

You bent over the worn green felt, your gaze intensely focused on the neat triangle of fifteen balls racked before you. With a smooth, practiced motion, you drew back your cue and then sent the white ball hurtling forward. The satisfying crack echoed through the immediate vicinity as the cue ball slammed into the apex of the triangle, scattering the colored spheres. Two solid balls careened towards the side pockets, disappearing with a soft thunk. A few appreciative murmurs rippled through the small crowd that had begun to gather, their attention drawn by the decisive break.

As you straightened up, your eyes already assessing the remaining layout for your next shot, you registered the subtle shift in the atmosphere. The murmurs around you intensified, a low hum of anticipation directed at your next move and the confident stance of the man you were now playing against. You ignored them, your focus solely on the angles and potential pathways across the table. Just as you bent down to line up your shot, a familiar warmth pressed against your back.

Yhe familiar face of Kimiko, her dark eyes wide and sparkling, peered at you from around your side. A wide, unrestrained smile stretched across her face as she waved enthusiastically. “I brought a friend. Meet us at our usual table.” She signed quickly with her free hand, her touch light but firm as she patted your shoulder before melting back into the boisterous crowd.

The usual table. Tucked away in the dimly lit corner of the bar, shrouded in a perpetual semi-darkness that suited your mood for so long. It was there, several years ago now, that Kimiko had first found you. You’d been a raw nerve ending wrapped in a barely contained rage, drowning yourself in the bar’s cheapest whiskey, the acrid taste a small comfort in the overwhelming bitterness that had become your constant companion. Everyone else in this place, in every place, gave you a wide berth, sensing the volatile energy that radiated off you. But not Kimiko.

She had simply slid into the opposite seat, her presence a quiet but undeniable force, completely unfazed by your obvious desire to be left alone. Kimiko, with her unwavering gaze and her uncanny ability to see past the hardened exterior you’d cultivated, was probably the first person who hadn’t been instinctively scared of you. And somehow, inexplicably, you had found yourself telling her. The words, long suppressed and festering, had finally found an outlet in her silent, attentive presence. You’d told her about Vought, about the monstrous power they had created, and about your own terrifying role as their supposed failsafe against Homelander, a weapon they hoped they’d never need to unleash.

It was through Kimiko that you had met Hughie and Billy. She had introduced you to their desperate, ragtag group, explaining their impossible mission. You had agreed to help them, not out of any sense of altruism or justice, but for a far more primal and satisfying reason: to spit in Vought’s face for every twisted thing they had done, for the life they had stolen from you.

You shoved the crumpled bills you’d won into the pocket of your worn leather jacket, the rough texture of the paper a small, tangible satisfaction. You navigated your way through the press of drunken patrons, offering curt nods or simply brushing past those who stumbled into your path, your focus fixed on the dimly lit corner. You spotted Kimiko immediately, her eyes catching yours across the room, a warm smile blooming on her face. You had instinctively expected to see Hughie slumped in his usual chair across from her, nursing a beer and looking perpetually worried. Instead, a stranger sat in his place.

You slid into the booth beside Kimiko, offering a rare and fleeting smile, a brief upturning of your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes, before turning your attention to the other man. The two of you regarded each other for a moment, a silent assessment passing between you, before you extended your hand. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it, his grip surprisingly firm. “Serge,” he said, his voice carrying a faint, intriguing accent, “but everyone calls me Frenchie.” You noticed the way Kimiko was looking at you, her dark eyes filled with a hopeful anticipation, as if she were silently pleading with you to drop your typical stoic wall, at least for someone other than her.

Frenchie’s eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint as he leaned back against the worn vinyl of the booth. “Kimiko here,” he began, gesturing towards her with a playful nod, “she mentioned you were… a supe,” he drawled the last word with a theatrical flourish. He paused, a wry smile playing on his lips. “What she failed to mention is that you are considerably better looking than most supes I have had the displeasure of encountering.”

You instinctively rubbed the light stubble that shadowed your jawline, a small, involuntary flush warming your cheeks. A shy, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You cleared your throat, the sound a low rumble in your chest. “Well, I’m flattered,” you murmured, your gaze flicking towards Kimiko. “And it’s about damn time she introduced me to her more… handsome friends.”

Kimiko’s eyes widened, a playful glint in them. She signed rapidly, her hands a blur of motion. “Drinks! I need drinks!” Before you could fully process what she was signing, she was scrambling over your lap, a surprisingly agile movement, and out of the booth, disappearing back into the crowded bar.

Frenchie cleared his throat, the sound drawing your attention back to him. “So,” he began, his gaze direct and surprisingly intense, “why the hell are you helping The Boys? Instead of, you know, being Vought’s golden boy… or attack dog, or whatever delightful role they had planned for you?”

You shrugged, leaning back against the worn booth, the cheap vinyl creaking softly beneath your weight. “Don't agree with them,” you stated simply, your voice flat. “And I sure as hell don't agree with Homelander.” A flicker of something dark crossed your features. “Only plus side is that they are too weak to actually stop me.”

Frenchie leaned back as well, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze thoughtful as he listened. He shrugged after a moment, a hint of a cynical smile on his lips. “They have it coming.”

Kimiko reappeared, a tray laden with an assortment of mismatched glasses and a bottle of something that looked suspiciously like cheap whiskey. She squeezed back into the booth beside you, her hip bumping yours in a familiar, comfortable way. She offered you a small shot glass filled with the amber liquid. You took it, your fingers brushing hers. The three of you raised your glasses in a silent toast before knocking back the fiery liquid. You grimaced slightly at the harsh taste but poured yourself another shot, the burn in your throat a welcome distraction. You watched as Kimiko signed rapidly, her eyes flitting between you and Frenchie, a wide, pleased smile on her face. “Glad you two are getting along.” The three of you fell into a comfortable, easy conversation, the cheap drinks surprisingly effective at loosening tongues and easing tensions, no matter how rough they tasted.

Stepping out of the bar into the cool night air felt like emerging from a dense fog. Your head swam slightly, a dull throb behind your eyes a testament to the amount of alcohol you’d consumed. You pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of your worn coat and patted your pants and then your coat again, searching for your lighter.

“Here,” a slightly slurred voice mumbled from beside you. You turned to see Frenchie standing there, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips and a silver lighter held out towards you. “Thanks,” you murmured, taking the lighter and igniting your own cigarette. You handed the lighter back, your fingers briefly brushing his.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the cool night air a welcome balm to your throbbing head. Frenchie subconsciously shifted closer, leaning against the brick wall next to you, exhaling a plume of smoke into the night. “You know I meant what I said, yeah?” he hummed, his gaze fixed on the streetlights flickering in the distance.

You turned your head towards him, exhaling a stream of smoke from the corner of your mouth. “You said a lot tonight, Frenchie,” you chuckled softly, the alcohol making your voice slightly husky. “Not that it’s a bad thing. I quite enjoy hearing you talk.” Your words were slightly slurred, but so were his.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound. “Well,” he said, turning his head to look at you, his eyes dark and intent, “I find you rather… good looking.”

Without thinking, propelled by a sudden, impulsive urge, you moved to stand directly in front of him, effectively caging him against the rough brick wall despite being slightly shorter. You took a long drag from your cigarette, holding the smoke in your lungs as you leaned in close, your gaze locking on his lips. Then, you exhaled, slowly blowing the smoke directly into his mouth. Wisps of smoke escaped from the corners of his lips as he tilted his head and kissed you back.

The kiss was sloppy, fueled by alcohol and a sudden, undeniable attraction. Your tongue pushed past his slightly parted lips, the combined taste of cheap whiskey and cigarette smoke filling your mouth. It was intoxicating, the way Frenchie’s hands instinctively gripped your waist, pulling you closer, the way his skin felt warm and slightly rough under your touch as you cupped his cheeks, deepening the kiss.

Your mouths moved against each other with a desperate urgency, tongues tangling, breaths mingling. Frenchie’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his body. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own chest. Your hands slid from his cheeks to tangle in the short, dark curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer still. The world outside the small, smoky bubble you had created faded away, the sounds of the street and the distant bar music becoming a muted background hum. You savored the taste of him, the feel of his lips on yours, the unexpected heat that flared between you. It was a raw, untamed kiss, a silent acknowledgment of a connection that had sparked unexpectedly in the dimly lit corner of a dive bar.

You pulled away, your chest heaving as you gasped for breath. Frenchie looked at you, his eyes slightly wide and dazed as you stepped back, breaking his hold. A genuine smile bloomed on your face, a rare and unguarded expression that didn’t fade, not even when you turned to see Kimiko standing a few feet away, her dark eyes wide as she stared at the two of you.

You reached out and patted Frenchie’s chest, a small, almost affectionate gesture, before turning towards Kimiko. “See you two later,” you said, your voice still slightly rough. You turned and started walking down the sidewalk, pulling deeply on your cigarette before flicking it onto the pavement, the glowing ember arcing briefly in the night air.

Frenchie stood there, his mouth slightly agape, stammering and pointing a finger in your direction as you walked away. “I like this guy,” he mumbled to the empty air, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

[venus-haze]

No Other Gods Before Me (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: Love is everything. Love is God. Homelander is love. Maybe you are, too. 

Note: Gender neutral supe reader, and no descriptors are used. Takes place in season 1 during the Believe Expo. Inspired by Starlight’s comment that she didn’t have a crush on Homelander growing up because “he was like Jesus or something.” I'm sorry it took me so long to write another Homelander fic! Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Extremely unhealthy relationship, power imbalance (unclear as to who, as the reader has unspecified psychic powers), warped elements of Christianity. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Homelander saw them clear as day. The tears welling up in your eyes as you walked down to the baptismal pool. He barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. For all of his pandering, he was never fond of religious types–especially religious supes. You should know better than to buy into this bullshit, a cheap substitute for simple minds that couldn’t comprehend the modern gods that put the miracles of every religious text to shame.

Still, he held out his gloved hand for you to take, and you did, gingerly, as if his physical presence would be too much to bear. 

Homelander had his fair share of admirers, but the reverent gleam in your eyes was nothing short of disarming. His name came from your lips in a soft, pious prayer before you hit the water.

You emerged from the chlorinated depths reborn, staring at him in a moment of blissful awe. “You are love,” you whispered, only loud enough so he could hear. And it stunned him. So much so that he couldn’t protest when you were ushered out of the pool, wet clothes clinging indecently to your skin. You disappeared with your fresh towel, and he resisted the urge to drown the rest of the devout in line to find you.

There was still time. Believe Expo wasn’t quite over yet. Surely you’d still be milling about, in some ridiculous prayer circle or buying one of the cheap trinkets the numerous grifters shilled. He’d never read the Bible, not all of it. Bits and pieces to understand what people were talking about, and a few feel-good verses up his sleeve for speeches and interviews. None of it made him understand what all of the fuss was about, anyway. Why his birthday wasn’t a months-long celebration, a cultural phenomenon. All Vought gave him was a TV special and a cake. It wasn’t the spectacular frenzy that people anticipated all year.

His fists clenched. 

He found a volunteer who didn’t look all that busy, and offered a selfie with them before asking a favor. People would do just about anything for him, regardless, but posing his demands as if they were helping him out tended to get things done faster. As soon as the words left his mouth, the volunteer set off to find you. He retreated to his dressing room, waiting impatiently for your arrival.

“Isn’t he wonderful?” you asked, your distant voice growing louder as you approached.

“Homelander’s the best,” the volunteer agreed.

“Don’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“That warmth when you’re in his presence, something divine.”

“Well, he was chosen by God.”

“You don’t get it at all, do you,” you said, disappointment evident in your voice, just on the other side of his dressing room door.

He tried not to appear too eager when you entered, though you were in different clothes than before. Couldn’t expect you to spend the rest of the day walking around in soaking wet clothes, though part of him hoped you would.

“I knew we’d see each other again,” you said, not at all surprised by him summoning you.

He tilted his head, regarding you with suspicion. You didn’t seem like you were fucking with him, but he couldn’t be sure. “In the baptismal pool, you said I was love.”

You nodded. “Love is eternal. Love can conquer anything.”

“Love is God,” he said.

“I prayed to you, because I knew you could hear me,” you confessed quietly. “You’re the one.”

Your sincerity was genuine, the way your heart beat in time for him, tearful eyes glistening with an unprecedented devotion. Without an outstretched, gloved hand, he cupped your cheek, caressing it in his first act of blessing. Anointing you first. A ragged breath emerged from his parted lips. His dove, his lamb, his to guide and nurture the way these abstract figments couldn’t. You would be his Mary Magdalene, his Saint Paul, unceasingly devoted in your worship of him, proselytizing the good word to the masses. 

And why shouldn’t they worship him? Look at him with the same admiration and awe that you did? Power in the blood, his blood, to save and damn as he saw fit. After all, he didn’t need to die to offer salvation. No great sacrifices on his part to provide for those who were worthy. The sky had been empty when he explored it, all the way up past the atmosphere, farther than anyone could possibly go until he reached the vast emptiness of space itself and found himself alone. Homelander wasn’t an unknowable god. He walked among the masses, pandered to their sensitivities because he knew just how small and insignificant they were.

He’d read about the more extreme acts of devotion to gods in the past. Self-flagellation. Human sacrifice. Vows of poverty. Pathetic and desperate attempts to appease a supposedly powerful higher being who did nothing to help his people when they cried out for him. But Homelander was there. And just like you’d said, he could hear everything. He required so much less of people yet offered so much more. 

“You’re the only one who sees me for what I am,” he murmured. 

You nodded gently, your cheek rubbing against his glove. 

He leaned in to kiss you, and you reciprocated without hesitation, pressing your lips to his, allowing yourself unprecedented closeness with the divine. Consume and be healed, forgiven, saved. Kissing you felt purposeful, made his heart race and his brain feel fuzzy.

Warmth washed over him, and for a moment the suspicious part of him wondered if this divine haze was related to your powers. Something about being able to get into people’s heads, mess with their emotions. He wasn’t sure. There was no reason for you to be on his radar before the spiritual encounter.

When you whispered his name against his lips like a prayer, he nearly choked. Devout. Unconditional. He held onto you tightly, lips attached to yours in his own act of worship.

Love was everything. Love was God. Homelander was love. Maybe you were, too. 

[toxicanonymity]

Hey, this person has directly credited you as their ideas for their character bots

https://poe.com/pedroxo

[ Background: an account made AI bots of my fics and others to various extents. I had an anxiety attack quietly watching Tumblr melt down over this topic. When the dust settled, this post was the first and last I said about it to address continued inquiries. ]

unauthorized AI Bots of fics

Thank you everyone who kindly let me know about the >25 unauthorized bots using content from my fics.

Listen, I strongly relate to the desire to talk to these characters - I've said it before. I appreciate how invested someone must be to go to all this effort, and I appreciate the credit. But it's not right and I'm not comfortable with it. You may not realize what it feels like to the writer. It feels like a violation.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the first incident for me. Someone once made a bot of my fic 4 days after I publicly said not to in response to an ask. I didn't find out until it had almost 1k "chats" and you'll see I use that term very loosely under the cut.

I've said don't do this, and it's in my masterlist. I've even shared my anxiety about being so slow to update that people take matters into their own hands. I'm not really sure what else to say. I'm tired.

Please don't do this. And when you see chatbots built on fics, please alert the writers.

IMPORTANT The bots are down. I don't want the person to be harassed - i think that's obvious based on my tone from the start.

Beyond these, there were more bots from night walks, slasher, and stepdad, ones from Raider and Speakeasy and even a few from hypotheticals I published like when stepdad goes to jail for indecent exposure or when you aren't getting wet for raider joel.

Night Walks: Original, Soaked

Left in Lincoln pt. 1; jalbird

Slasher: Midnight Tow, Stop Playing

Stepdad: Clock, Ring Doorbell

Sorry I was too overwhelmed to do the IMG text on each of these but it's basically just snippets from the works listed.

After being contacted, the person copied and pasted a message to multiple writers saying they were sorry, didn't know what they were doing, were deactivating their acct. They asked to spread their message, and said have an amazing day/night.

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Past Incident

IMGs: 1) I answered an ask August 16 saying no. The asker had "offered" to credit me. 2) August 20, someone made a bot without credit. This is worse imo and suggests trying to hide their actions.

I told a lot of people about this, but it was an isolated bot unlike the profile discovered 2/23.

IMG: comparison of left in lincoln text to the bot.IMG: A seven paragraph narrative bot output. Obviously failed my test if you've read the fic.

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ANYWAY

If you're not already on ao3, I recommend signing up. This isn't a threat to leave, but I may not put everything on Tumblr forever. My AO3 profile.

Edit: I like tumblr because I like answering lore and questions and getting thots, plus my blog is very multimedia with many awesome contributions from different people. Please help keep it that way, because your interaction is why I'm here. I value everyone's engagement here.

For many reasons, I'm less and less comfortable with Tumblr being the primary home for all my writing. I'm aware people can still take things from AO3, but not as easily. I'm trying to be nice by preemptively suggesting people sign up on AO3 if they want to read everything. If it's not worth the trouble to you, just don't do it.

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Ty very much to those who have been supportive and checked on me. It means a lot. I will admit this made me put on a hat and cry in public lol.

feel free to rb this because idk if everyone realizes the extent of this or how jarring it can look.